Sunday Mornings
by Ava Miranda Dakedavra
Summary: Blaise Zabini is engaged (somewhat illegally) to Daphne Greengrass, and has found himself in the need for a wedding planner. It's definitely not who he expected, but he definitely didn't expect anything else to come his way either, such as completely trading out his fiance and finding himself even more stressed out about weddings than he ever thought he could be.
1. Pretty Sure

" _I need a girl, not a body with a complex/_ _I got a heart and you've got your lipstick/_ _Fine as hell but I think I might as well drop Annabelle/_ _You're staying up just to dance alone/_ _I'm dressing down 'cause I'm tired and I wanna go home/_ _You look the part but looks don't tell the truth, woah-oh/_ _Well baby you're pretty but I'm pretty sure I'm over you/_ _You can't even hold a normal conversation/_ _But you can tell your friends I ruined your life/_ _Whatever helps your perfect reputation/_ _'Cause I'm not losing sleep tonight..._ " - _A Rocket to the Moon, "Annabelle"_

* * *

Blaise was never one to typically enjoy more feminine things. Of course, he didn't automatically shun them, or hate them, but he truly just didn't understand the need for unnecessary lace and he certainly had no idea what tulle was. He wasn't under the impression that center pieces were incredibly important, and when asked what sort of tuxedo he was meant to wear at the ceremony, he simply stared blankly at the one who had asked the question. This is why Daphne, the one who had asked the question to begin with, declared that they were to go to the best wedding planner in wizarding London the next morning. He didn't quite understand why one got paid to plan things for other people, but it meant that he didn't have to think too hard about it and it would make Daphne happy, so he didn't suppose it was the worst thing in the world.

He looked around the waiting room, where Daphne had insisted to the receptionist that it was incredibly urgent that they see the wedding planner, and he was disgusted to see that every inch of the waiting room was covered in bright pink roses. With the way the elderly receptionist bustled to each and every lurid bouquet to water them with care, he guessed that she had been the one to put them up.

A young man, possibly no older than nineteen and dressed rather formally in a vest and tie, poked his head out from behind a door and glanced down at a clipboard. "Zabini-Greengrass? Right this way."

Daphne stood, her long blonde hair swaying as she paused to delicately wrap her hand around Blaise's, giving him a sweet smile and practically dragging him in excitement in such a dignified way that only a Pureblood could pull off. Her heels clicked on the Cherrywood floors, down a hallway and into an office, the walls filled with dark bookshelves and a sleek, dark wood desk taking up the center. There were big, hulking binders filling some of the shelves, but others were a myriad of books, some with nothing to do with weddings.

The man who had shown them in scribbled something on his clipboard and flashed them a pearly white smile, "She'll be right in, just finishing up with another customer."

Daphne thanked him, folding her hands in her lap and practically bouncing in excitement as she took her seat in front of the desk. Blaise stood, perusing over the shelves and humming as he read the titles.

"Whoever this person is, they've got some top-quality rare books," he informed his fiancé, brushing his thumb over the spine of one to feel the cracked leather. "What I wouldn't give to have this kind of library."

"Thank you for the compliment, Mister Zabini," a melodic, yet familiar voice announced as the door quietly shut and a different pair of heels clicked in. He turned around to find Hermione Granger, dressed in a grey blazer and a pair of black slacks, shaking Daphne's hand before turning to him and smiling. It seemed as if she didn't hate the pair of them, which was weighing on Daphne's mind judging by her wide eyes behind the brunette's back.

"Granger?" Blaise questioned, just to make sure it really was her, or if she'd lost her memory or something.

"Yes," she nodded, still smiling and offering her hand, which he shook, "I must ask – why are you surprised that I am here, in my office, after you've hired me?"

Daphne blushed up to her roots, "Err – I only heard that you were the best in the business. I didn't pay much attention to the name, I'm afraid."

Hermione tilted her head back and laughed, that monstrous mane from school tied up in a thick bun, pieces still framing her face. "Well, I'm flattered, and thank you all the same. Now, let's get started, shall we?" She clicked to her chair, and Blaise moved to his own opposite her. As she sat down, she flicked her wand, a Quick-Quotes quill coming to life as she shifted through a few papers. "When would you like to plan the event?"

"December fifth," Daphne supplied, the quill scribbling in midair.

"That leaves us roughly around five months to plan, nothing I can't handle. Anywhere you would have in mind for the wedding?"

"My family's manor, it's always been a tradition, but I'm afraid that the gardens are a fright during the winter months."

"Oh, well if you'd like to have an outdoor wedding, I know many charms to make it look like a winter wonderland while keeping it a neutral temperature for you and the guests."

"Ooh! That'd be perfect!"

The two went on like this for some time, back and forth, and Blaise quickly lost interest in the conversation. He let his gaze move back over to the books, scanning the titles and wondering if Granger would just let him pluck one and read it while they gabbed. Daphne would be used to it, he were sure, but he was afraid Granger would scold him for not paying attention. Surely, she would notice that he didn't know or care very much about what was being said, and that it certainly didn't apply to him.

"Now, groomsmen – Blaise?" she called, and he turned to look at her in mild surprise as she seemed to pluck upon the one thing he actually had to decide.

"Draco Malfoy is my best man," he supplied, and she nodded as she urged him to go on. "Err…Draco Malfoy is my only groomsman."

Granger seemed to accept this, but Daphne turned to him in puzzlement.

"What about my cousin, Wallace? He would do it."

"Then what about my sister, Evangeline, as a bridesmaid?" he countered, and Daphne immediately pinched her face into a small scowl.

"I've already gotten all of the bridesmaids picked out, dear, and you know Evangeline and Astoria do not get along," she gave a small sniff as she proved her point, her voice calm and quiet, "I certainly can't have my day ruined by your sister and Astoria trying to duel each other in the dressing rooms."

"Well, I certainly can't have my day ruined by your cousin bumbling about and knocking into Draco, which will then cause him to get the perpetual bitch-stare going throughout the entire ceremony. Do you want that? It'll be in the pictures too, and at the reception."

"Ahem," Granger coughed, attempting to stop it from snowballing into anything worse in front of her. "Well, we can just finalize those things at a later date. How's about we schedule our next appointment for…next Thursday, to see the location? Is that any issue?" They shook their heads. "Perfect! Do you have any questions for me?"

Daphne primly shook her head, but Blaise popped up at the opportunity, "How did you not become a lawyer or a Healer or something? Why a _wedding planner_?"

Granger simply smiled, her hands folded on top of her desk like the good student she had been and always probably would be, "Perhaps I'll tell you later. I work better with examples."

Blaise tilted his head at her curiously, but she was saved by the man from earlier stepping in after knocking, looking frazzled. "Miss Granger, I hate to interrupt, but Miss Kolvert is demanding that you redo the envelopes for her wedding, as they're supposed to have lilac ribbons rather than light purple. I tried telling her the issue, but she wouldn't listen to me."

Granger sighed and stood, "No worries, Jacob, we were just finishing up here. Could you please show Blaise and Daphne out?"

Jacob visibly relaxed as the two stood and followed him out after thanking Granger for her time, possibly because he wouldn't have to deal with Miss Kolvert again. The couple was silent until they stepped out of the Floo and into Greengrass manor.

"Hermione Granger is our wedding planner," Daphne murmured first, as if the shock were finally wearing off. She removed her shawl, wringing it in her hands, and looked at Blaise with wide, crystalline eyes. "The Brightest Witch of Our Age, Gryffindor Golden Girl, is our _wedding planner_."

"I can honestly say that I never saw this happening," Blaise whispered back, "Do you think she'll be decent at it?"

"I – I think so," she answered shakily as they made their way out to the garden, which was still bright and overflowing with greenery as it was still summer. "I mean, she's a perfectionist, right? So she wants to get everything right." Blaise nodded his agreement as they stepped into the sunlight, a table and chairs set up and occupying two blondes, who were still waiting for them.

"How was the appointment?" Draco asked, his hand clasped on top of the table with Astoria's as the two women greeted each other.

"Hermione Granger is our wedding planner," Daphne immediately hissed, as if she were gossiping across the Slytherin dining table, and Draco looked to Blaise in the next instant for confirmation. At his nod, the couple shared a look before nodding as well and going back to their tea. Blaise thought this odd, and quickly asked about it.

"Well," Astoria shrugged, setting her cup down on its saucer, "If she mucked anything up, she'd be devastated. She always had to get 'O's in school, I don't see how work would be any different."

"Right," Daphne visibly relaxed, nodding at her older sister, "She's a perfectionist, isn't she?"

"Or just crazy," Draco murmured before biting into a biscuit, looking up directly into his wife's glare. He arched an eyebrow as he chewed, and the woman sighed.

"Do you think that will make her feel better?" she gave a slight pout. Daphne, as soon as Draco had said that, immediately tensed right back up and began drumming her fingers against the white linen of the tablecloth. Astoria reached over and took her little sister's hand, patting it and smiling sweetly at her. "There, there, Daphne, your wedding won't be ruined, it will be simply spectacular. Why, it may even beat mine!" she whispered conspiratorially, and Daphne perked up. Blaise sighed, slipping a little lower in his seat, and turned to Draco.

"Granger's coming here to check out the gardens next Thursday, if you want to steer clear," he informed him, picking up the other biscuit.

Draco looked perplexed, "Why would I steer clear? Do you want me away from Granger?"

"Don't you two have bad blood? Err – bad history?" Daphne asked.

Astoria waved it away, "They apologized to each other, shortly after we started dating. They aren't the best of friends, but at least can stand to be in the same room with one another for extended periods of time. It's the other two that don't have half a brain between them, they're the ones that they all get into it with."

Draco looked unabashed and shrugged, "It gets me out of going to the Ministry Christmas Ball. Not my fault we lost all of those drapes."

"Lucky," Blaise hissed, and Draco grinned evilly back at him as he took another bite of his biscuit. Astoria rolled her eyes at the two, but gave a very fond smile at her husband. He returned it before speaking again.

"Besides, I'll have to deal with Granger at some point in all of this anyway," he said before straightening up and smirking at Blaise, "By the way, who is your best man, Blaise?"

Blaise tensed, just as Daphne did, and he nibbled his biscuit and avoided anyone's eye contact, "Goyle, of course, I just can't wait to see him bumble down the aisle and drop the ring down a floor grate. Of course it's you, you blonde oaf."

"Speaking of groomsmen – Astoria, don't you think Wallace would love to be one?" Daphne spoke as Blaise took his moment to scowl at his biscuit. Draco and Astoria caught this, shared another quick glance, and sipped their tea in silence.

"I told you, Wallace could be a groomsman if Evangeline got to be a bridesmaid," he spoke, dropping the biscuit on the plate and clenching his fists at his side.

"Oh, why don't you do that, Daphne?" Astoria brightened as Blaise looked between the two sisters before glaring at the youngest, "She's such a darling – how is she, Blaise?"

Daphne bit her lip before huffing, glaring back at him, "Fine, I can't stand your sister! She gets on my nerves, thinking she's Italian."

"We _are_ Italian!" Blaise erupted, "It's in our last name! Grandmother lives in Venice, where she, her mother and grandmother were born! How could you get any less Italian than _that_?"

Daphne turned pink, but only as she was getting ready for a good shouting match, judging by her scowl deepening and her tiny fists clenching up in her lap.

"Alright, now that certainly is enough!" Astoria chided, setting the china down with a very hard _clink!_ She settled the both of them with a glare as Draco idly sipped his tea. "I'm well aware that an arranged marriage is difficult to come to terms with, but it can be done! Just look at Draco and I – the first month we would barely look at each other, and now…well." She flushed, and gave a happy smile as Draco returned it, "We're very happy together." She returned the glare, and dropped her voice, "And I doubt I have to remind you two that arranged marriages are certainly _illegal_ now, hmm? What should happen if Granger senses something off about your marriage?" Daphne lost the pink in her face and started moving towards a very nice pale shade. "She'll go to her bumbling Aurors, who will bumble around in our things and our lives and realize that not _only_ did Daddy and Madame Zabini strike up one for you and Blaise, but also the one for me and Draco. Do you think they'll stop after that, after they probably rip us apart, or will they keep going through Daddy's bank transactions and notice a severe increase in withdrawals at the end of my seventh year that abruptly ended in May?"

Draco sighed, rubbing at Astoria's free hand and working at calming his wife. When this didn't seem to be working, he finally spoke, "So much stress isn't good for the baby, dear."

Daphne perked right back up, looking at her sister urgently, "Baby? Oh, Astoria, are you - ?"

Astoria glared at her husband, but relaxed easily enough and gave another sweet smile to him, that he also returned, "Yes, we are." Daphne erupted into eager little screams and dove at her sister to drown her in hugs and questions, while Blaise stiffly turned to Draco and gave a grim smile and a handshake.

"Congratulations," he said, to which the blonde nodded before hopping up out of his chair.

"Blaise, come take a walk with me, I'll tell you all about mine and Astoria's wedding preparations," he said, and the two men wandered off down a winding trail until they were a good distance away. "Astoria and I only worked because we felt something other than obligation for each other," he spoke quietly, both keeping their gaze on the trail. "If you honestly can't stand her now, break it off before it gets even more expensive." At Blaise's questioning look, he scoffed and rolled his eyes, "Please, I can see the thought in your head. And, as your legal consultant, I can tell you that I have found at least eighteen loopholes in your marriage contract with only one read-through. It should be easy enough to get out of it."

"Won't that put you in trouble with Astoria though?" he asked, settling his hands into his pockets.

Draco shrugged, "She wants to make her father happy, but she also cares about her sister's wellbeing. Right now, Daphne wants a wedding, and the only way she can get a wedding right now is with you. Astoria's going to be on her side, but she's also on yours. We both can tell that you aren't happy."

"She hates my sister, Draco," Blaise insisted, "She didn't think we were actually Italian even though my family took her to Florence for dinner several times and carried on conversations with the staff about their own families. Astoria's right, Daphne only cares about a wedding, but she sure as hell doesn't care about me."

"Then you know what to do," Draco whispered, "Talk to your mother first, then her."

"And what am I supposed to tell my mother?" Blaise sighed, the weight of the world resting on his shoulders.

Draco hummed before brightening, "Inform her that my mother wouldn't mind going into some sort of business with her."

"Is that true?" Blaise asked warily, not about to lie to his own mother.

"Actually, this time it is," he scoffed, "Mother wants to open her own tea shop and fill it with baked goods, but she wants variety as well. Simone can actually bake and has a cheery outlook on decorating."

Blaise smiled back, "I think she'd like that very much. She always did like your mother."

Draco nodded his agreement, the two settling into the conversation as they wound around the Greengrass gardens. Blaise took the walk to ponder his position, and heaved a large sigh, "I'll talk to my mother next week, she's visiting Grandmother until then." Draco nodded again, and the rest of the walk was spent talking about Astoria and Draco and babies of the two being brought into the world.

Blaise quickly finished tea, bid Daphne and Astoria good luck with their baby talk, and wished Draco the best of luck dealing with them before he Floo'd back to his flat, collapsing into his bed and thinking of making the world's stiffest drink. He snuggled against the comforter, thinking about having someone there with him that he actually cared about and who cared about him, or even just having one of the books off of Granger's shelf to keep him company.

* * *

 **I decided to do this for fun and to try to de-stress from college, as finals are in two weeks (EEP!) and I am drowning in ten billion things. I hope you enjoyed it! Please leave me a review if you would like!**


	2. The List Goes On and On

**Thank you for such positive reviews! It really makes my day and helps me get through the freezing cold that has decided the plague my state!**

 _"Tomorrow you'll be thinking to yourself/ Where'd it all go wrong?/ But the list goes on and on/ And truth be told I miss you/ And truth be told I'm lying…" – The All-American Rejects, "Gives You Hell"_

* * *

The week came and went, bringing along more reasons for Blaise to terminate the arrangement with Daphne. Sure, she was a lovely girl, but she and Blaise just couldn't seem to get along like most couples. Perhaps that was the dangers of arranged marriages, Blaise decided one day, was that you kept thinking you could find or force love out of it even though it was impossible, and thus left yourself doomed to remain in the relationship for eternity. Even if his mother declined his request, which he doubted, as they were always incredibly close, he would still be able to terminate it on his own, given that he was directly involved in the contract.

He was just meandering through the halls of his former home, smiling idly at the still portraits of him, his sisters, his mother and his grandmother while they had been in Sicily just two summers ago. All of his life, he had been surrounded by works of art, good food, and strong women. Even his younger sister, who was two in the portrait and about to turn four in a few months, was showing signs of being just as independent and stubborn as her mother. Perhaps that's why Daphne fell short of being his ideal woman, he decided with a hum as he continued on down the hallway. She was always trying to be as good as or better than her sister, and trying to prove herself to others. He liked women with nothing to prove except to themselves, and he liked women even more if they were confident in all aspects of themselves, even their flaws.

"Blaise!" a tiny voice chirped, rushing towards him and threatening to take out his kneecaps. He immediately braced himself for impact and quickly scooped the little girl up into his arms, breathing a sigh of relief for not getting bowled over and quickly grinned at his little sister.

"Good morning, Lia!" he beamed, tossing her up into the air and catching her as she giggled and squealed. She was adorable, and she knew it. She had pudgy, chubby cheeks that enhanced her grins and giggles, and big brown eyes and thick dark lashes that even he was envious of. Blaise was her favorite, possibly since he had spent the most time with her when she was younger, but she and Evangeline still got on well enough. "How was Italy, hmm? Did you get sick on tortellini again?"

"No!" she pouted, her dark hair falling against his face as he held her overhead. "I ate like a good girl this time! When my tummy said "stop!" I stopped!"

"Ahh, it only took four years," he teased, settling her on his hip and tickling her stomach, noticing just how lighter her tan skin was compared to his dark. He tried to place who Simone's husband had been at the time Lia would have been conceived, but couldn't quite remember his name or what he had really looked like. He decided it didn't matter all the much anyway, since he was gone and had left the adorable girl all for themselves. "Now, where is Mama? I really need to talk to her."

"She's in the greenhouse," she said, motioning to be put down on a pillow that had coloring books, dolls and crayons all scattered around it. "Will you come play with me before you leave?"

"I would love nothing more," he grinned, ruffling her hair before walking away to the greenhouses. While most English Pureblood manors had gardens that would turn dormant in the winter months, the Zabinis had a greenhouse to keep all of their plants lush and luxurious all year round and found themselves able to have a multitude of foreign plants. However, it was big and towering with swooping arches and ivy vines crawling all over the tan brick. It felt like some sort of secret, magical land in his own backyard.

"Mother?" Blaise called, trying to figure out which section of the greenhouse Simone would take up in. "Are you still in here?"

"Oh, Blaise, _tesorino_ , _ciao!_ " Simone stood from the wicker chair by the lilies, beaming and embracing her son. Both Evangeline and Lia had gotten all of their good looks from Simone, as the elder women had thick, wavy dark hair and big brown eyes with eyelashes that beat her daughters'. She had full, almost perfectly drawn lips that would break out into a beaming grin whenever she saw one of her children. She was practically smiling 24/7 when she had been pregnant with Lia, and Evangeline and Blaise had teased her constantly.

"Morning, Mama, how was Italy? And Grandmother?" he asked politely, taking the seat opposite of her as she conjured it.

"Beautiful and beautiful, as always," she replied, taking a sip of her tea and discarding her book, "Now, to what do I owe this pleasure? If it were something as simple as pleasantries, you would have sent an owl."

Blaise gave a sheepish grin as she fixed him with a knowing smirk. She always managed to make him feel like a child, what with how she seemed to know nearly everything. But, perhaps he could stump her with this: "I want to break off the engagement to Daphne Greengrass."

Simone paused, the smirk dropping, and gazed at Blaise silently for a few moments before sighing and rubbing her temples, "And here I was hoping our reputation would be fixed as simply as that." He kept silent as she turned her gaze over to the lilies, tapping their petals idly as she thought. "Even though we did nothing in the war, everyone seems to think that you even have that horrid mark on your arm. Nothing we say or do is good enough. I had hoped…I had hoped that you marrying Miss Greengrass would fix things for us as well as it had for the Malfoys."

"They're having a baby, by the way," he offered quietly.

"I'll send them a gift," she gave a small smile before sighing and taking his hand, fixing him with those deep, dark eyes that had been the only thing he'd ever inherited from her, "I am not upset, _cucciolo_. I only want you to be happy, and this was an outrageous demand for you, and for that I am sorry. I am…I am worried for our family. I am worried of what Lia will grow up with, simply for her last name, and I am worried about how you and Evangeline are faring out there in the world."

"Narcissa Malfoy is opening up a tea shop, and she wants to know if you'll bake and decorate and help with the image of it," he offered eagerly, "That way, the Zabinis will be linked to the Malfoys and the image of a quaint little tea shop with fantastic pastries. Won't that be good enough to fix things, Mama?"

She grinned, shaking her head, "No, my pet, but I would have fun doing it with her."

Blaise huffed, settling back into his chair and practically pouting, "What if I go to the Daily Prophet and show them both of my forearms? Will that do anything?"

"I'm afraid that no matter how humorous an article that would be, that there would still be those who would doubt us," she sighed before shaking her head and smiling, "Do not worry, Blaise. You will do us proud by being happy and refusing to stoop to their level. That is all I ask of you now, and all I should ever have asked of you."

He was silent, pouting at her teacup before sighing and nodding, "Yes, Mama."

She leaned over to kiss his cheek, smoothing back his dark hair and brushing the back of her hand over his stubbly, dark cheek. She remembered when it was soft, without stubble to scratch back at her, and kissed it again. "Come, I'm sure you've already promised Lia to play, and I'm going to get started on a letter to Narcissa."

He lifted himself out of his chair, sighing and feeling relieved that this part had gone over well. Now he just had the most difficult part of telling Daphne his plan, and then tying up all the loose ends. He wondered what he would tell Granger, or if she would even care before bustling off to worry about ribbon colors on envelopes.

* * *

" _You're what?!_ "

Blaise winced at the sound, blinking rapidly and looking up at the pale face and wide eyes. "I want to break off the engagement."

"You – you can't!" Daphne argued, her father harrumphing and agreeing at the head of the dinner table. It was Wednesday night, as the Greengrasses had dinner together every Wednesday to catch up on the gossip and horrendously mild tragedies of the week and commiserate with one another. Blaise was now plucking himself out of the dull little charade, and now Draco would have to suffer through it all alone.

"Actually, Daddy," Astoria spoke up as she set down her fork, Draco and Blaise both looking at her with wide eyes. "There are several loopholes in the contract that you drew up yourself, the very ones that I offered to fix before you informed me that it wasn't my place to do so, that Blaise has struck upon. So, yes, he really can break off the engagement." As Daphne gaped at her older sister, Astoria fixed a heavy stare on her father, who had been less than supportive when she decided to pursue magical law enforcement after hearing Draco talk about it. Blaise would congratulate her taking a stand later, once somebody got that damn fork and knife away from Daphne. Maybe even the spoon, just to be safe.

"How _dare_ you, Astoria!" Daphne screeched as she stood, "You – you just wanted to have the best wedding ever to be held in the manor! And I was going to take that spot from you!"

"Daphne, darling, that is certainly not the case, now if you would please calm down we can all talk about this like adults," Astoria soothed and calmed, but Daphne was just working herself up into a nice, healthy rage judging by the look of her maroon colored face and her little fists digging into her napkin.

"And _you!_ " Daphne turned onto Blaise, who remained still and stiff, but patting the wand in his pocket just to be safe. "How _dare_ you! Do you even care what I want?"

"You just wanted a wedding, and I refuse to be the placeholder for your imaginary groom that you've had from the age of seven," he said, folding his napkin and settling it on the plate that he hadn't touched. Lenora Greengrass was horrid with telling house elves what to cook, so much so that the poor beings couldn't even begin to ever salvage it. "I will have the papers presented to you on Friday. I'll take care of Granger first thing in the morning. Have a nice evening."

And with that, a handful of Floo powder, and a burst of green flames, Blaise Zabini was finally free.

But not for long.

* * *

 **So I have several ideas as to how the next and remaining parts should go, but I want to see what you guys would like. I could turn this into a Marriage Law fic or I could go on with something else, either would be no problem. I will make the decision based upon the reviews I receive between now (9 o'clock in the evening, November 18th, 2015) and tomorrow (9 o'clock in the evening, November 19th, 2015). Please help me continue this, as I can't do it without you! (Well, I mean, I could, but I want to make this story something that you would like!)**

 **Please leave your suggestions (or just plain ol' comments) in a review! Thank you!**


	3. No Rest for the Wicked

**Thank you for your reviews and suggestions! I didn't find it necessary to wait until 9 o'clock tonight. I wasn't really surprised by the amount voting against the Marriage Law option, but I just wanted to check what you guys wanted before I continued. Thanks again!**

" _Oh, there ain't no rest for the wicked/ Money don't grow on trees/ I got bills to pay/ I got mouths to feed/ And ain't nothing in this world for free/ No I can't slow down/ I can't hold back/ Though you know I wish I could/ No there ain't no rest for the wicked/ Until we close our eyes for good…," – Cage the Elephant, "Ain't No Rest For the Wicked"_

* * *

Blaise found himself lighter when he got out of bed this morning, felt much freer, even though he didn't do anything particularly freeing that he didn't normally do. He didn't spend too long going over his appearance, trying to find anything out of place that Daphne would disapprove of, and instead pulled on black slacks and a simple button down shirt. He thought about growing his hair out, maybe even developing some sort of facial hair before remembering that it only grew in certain patches on his face.

He hopped out of the lift with a whistle, choosing to walk all the way to Granger's office to try to sound as morose as possible and telling her that he and Daphne had decided to break it off, and that her services would sadly no longer be required. Unless she wanted to let him borrow some of those books, then she would gladly be appreciated. He wondered if she was enough of a bleeding heart to lend him some if he squeezed out a few tears.

"Hello, Mister Zabini," Jacob chirped, having apparently replaced the aging receptionist since his last visit, as the old lady and almost all of her lurid pink flowers were gone, save for one lonely little vase filled with the droopiest of the buds. "Miss Granger is already waiting for you."

"Thank you, Jacob, I can find my way," he nodded solemnly, although he was practically giddy on the inside. Draco had sent him the papers to sign just last night, as soon as he and Astoria had gotten home, and Blaise had eagerly signed and returned them so he truly was a free man. He knocked a couple of times on Granger's door, making sure to try to make them sound as lonely as he should have been feeling. She called out for him to enter, and he quietly stepped in.

She was perched at her desk, scribbling things as certain portfolios and books flew to their homes in her briefcase. Once he shut the door, she set down her quill and eagerly looked up at him before taking in his expression and faltering. "Blaise, is everything alright?"

He heaved a heavy sigh and dropped down into one of the chairs in front of her desk. Granger waved her wand to have objects quit zooming around in the air, and walked over to the front of the dress. This time she was wearing a black dress and a grey blazer, her hair still remaining in that constricting bun, and Blaise idly wondered if the woman owned anything with color.

"Daphne and I broke up," he explained, and Granger quickly donned a look of empathy. He thought this strange, as most people normally went with sympathy in these types of situations, but continued on. "I'm afraid there won't be a wedding for you to plan any longer."

"Oh," she seemed at a loss for words, and he was surprised that he had finally found a way to silence _the_ Hermione Granger. "Would you like to talk about it?" she asked after a few quiet moments, making Blaise blink at her. "Sometimes people outside of the situation and without close ties to those involved can be the best perspective." He looked at her skeptically, wondering if that were true, and gave him a sweet smile before batting her eyelashes, "I've been told I can be a fantastic listener, when I choose to be."

He snorted, giving a small grin back at her, amused that she was comfortable enough to joke around with him. He found it odd that they were at completely opposite ends of the spectrum, he a Slytherin who stayed in the shadows, and her a Gryffindor with all of the spotlight cast upon her, but he did find himself at ease with her. So he shrugged, sighed, and dragged his hand through his hair.

"We were just…too different, I suppose," he began, and Granger settled in as if she were his student and he were teaching a very important lesson. "Figured we could always work past it, you know? Find something in common to make a relationship. That whole opposites attract, right? But I guess we were opposites in all of the wrong places. She cared too much about a wedding, and not enough about what would happen after it. That we would be bound to each other for the rest of our lives, and expected to have children together. But no, if she got the perfect centerpieces and the right dress, then everything was magically perfect in her life as well."

"I see a lot of women come in here like that," she offered, settling her arms across her chest and nodding. "It boggles me that they care so little for the person that they supposedly love."

"Exactly," he nodded before shrugging, "So I broke it off. I think it was best for both of us, even if she doesn't think so now."

They were silent for a few moments, but it was comfortable and allowed them both to think. It was easy, to get lost in his own thoughts, and it appeared that Granger wasn't any different. She truly was the best listener, and took great care in what he had to say. He'd never really met another person like that, especially not if they didn't have anything to gain from the conversation.

She stepped forward, smiling at him, and rest her right hand on his shoulder, "I think you did the right thing, Blaise."

He paused before smiling back, resting his hand on top of hers, "Thank you, Hermione."

As soon as their hands touched, a white, warm light encircled both of their wrists before constricting and seeping into their skin. The two gaped at the light, at each other, and then back as the transaction slowly took place. Once the light faded and warmed them to the bone, the two were left to stand in the slightly dimmer office and stare blankly at one another.

"Was that an Unbreakable Vow?" Granger asked, her lips pursed together tightly.

"Yes, I believe it was," he agreed, eyebrows arched as high as they would go. The two slowly nodded before tearing apart Granger's office, protecting the books with charms as they searched and hunted for any third person. When her office was clear, the two took off down the hall – Granger surprisingly fast in her small heels – and rounded on poor Jacob, who had only been watering the dismal excuse for roses.

"Jacob, job on the line, did you cast any sort of spell in the last fifteen minutes?" Granger threatened, making Jacob immediately pale.

"Just a charm to get the stagnant water out of the vase," he admitted meekly, offering his wand to her. "You can check. Please don't fire me, Miss Granger, I love this job! Besides, I'm trying to help my sister start her business and – "

She quieted him with a quick "shush," taking extra care to examine the poor boy's wand. She whispered, "Prior Incantato," and the wand proved Jacob's words. She immediately relaxed, handing his wand back with an apology, and Jacob seemed relieved as well. "Jacob," she said urgently, and he perked up, "Is there anyone else in the building?"

"No, ma'am," he assured, "Just me, you, and Mister Zabini. The wards would have alerted us of anyone coming, and you cleared the morning to visit the Greengrass manor anyway."

Granger looked to Blaise, seeming to ask if he had any theories, and he pursed his lips and furrowed his brows before humming.

"I'm going to check on some things, I'll inform you if I find anything," he assured, Granger nodding as Jacob only looked puzzled.

"Be sure to send me an owl, I have irregular hours and I may miss a Floo call."

He nodded back, taking his leave and Apparating to Malfoy Manor. The gates opened and he marched in, his mind whirling as he tried to comprehend everything that had happened. He and Granger had been _nice_ to each other, for one. They'd had some sort of binding spell cast on one another, and it was obvious that neither had cast it themselves. Jacob was proved innocent, unless you found cleaning vases of stagnant water a crime. He needed some help, possibly legal help, and burst into the foyer and immediately heading for where he knew Draco's office was. The house elf that had tried to intercept him followed, asking for his business, and he quickly barked it to him just as he was bursting into the office door.

What he saw should have at the very least startled him, but Blaise had always been a "go with the flow" kind of guy. Draco, Astoria, Lucius and Narcissa were all gathered on one side of the room, behind Draco's desk, and Astoria was crying and also glaring. On the other side of the room was Hubert, Lenora and Daphne, Hubert and Daphne looking positively proud of themselves, while Lenora only remained indifferent, just as she always did.

"What the hell is going on?" Blaise demanded, and Astoria and Narcissa immediately turned to look at him in concern.

"Blaise, I certainly won't have to warn you not to touch Daphne, but please refrain from letting her touch you," Draco sniped, glaring at the Greengrasses.

"You found problems with our original contract, so we whipped up another one last night," Hubert puffed up, trying to be impressive and falling short miserably of it. Daphne, however, danced over to Blaise with a wicked grin, making him tense and attempt to scoot away, but there was hardly enough room and he couldn't turn the doorknob fast enough. Daphne darted out with her right hand, almost as if she were playing tag, and quickly placed it on his with a gleeful shout. The room seemed to suck in a breath, pausing, and then looking in bewilderment at one another.

"Darling, are you sure you're using your right hand?" Hubert questioned as Daphne tapped her right hand to Blaise's again, making him dart away and rush over to the Malfoy side of the room.

"Yes, I am!" Daphne quipped back, her face beginning to go pink.

"Somebody tell me right now what the hell is going on!" Blaise barked, looking to Draco for assistance.

"Daphne and her bumbling father drew up new contracts for your forced engagement, one that would act as an Unbreakable Vow – highly illegal, by the way," Draco glared at the Greengrasses, the two in question looking highly confused. "All it would take for you two to touch right hands, and the words on the paper would act as the third party and bind you two together for life." Draco didn't seem to notice that Blaise was paling and staring at his right hand as he flexed and relaxed it. "However, it seems that they are as inadequate at the spell as they are at creating legal documents, so I'm sure there's nothing to worry about."

"Let me see it," Blaise ordered in a quiet tone, one that made Draco look up and stare worriedly at him – well, as worried as Draco could ever look. Without another word, Draco handed him the parchment. For the next few moments, everyone stared as Blaise read it over, taking in everything before sucking in a breath and letting it out in a hiss of "Granger."

"Granger?" Astoria and Daphne both sounded, but Daphne took over once she began to become shrill, "What does Granger have to do with anything?"

"Because you two are so stupid that you forgot to put _your fucking daughter's name in it!_ " Blaise roared, pointing at the paper as they flinched. Rarely did Blaise get angry, and rarely did he yell, but his blood was pumping so hard that it seemed to be the only volume he could manage. "Her name would only appear was the bond was made, and so any female who touched me would've been forced to marry me!"

"You touched Granger?" Daphne whispered, her mind trying to process her blunder.

"Yes – in an act of comfort over my broken engagement, she put her hand on my shoulder. I put my hand on hers to say thank you, and guess how fucking surprised we were to see an Unbreakable Vow put into place!" he growled, Draco hitting his head against his own desk as Astoria turned to face her family.

"How dare you! You had no right to do any such thing to Blaise!" she yelled, "Why can't you just let people be happy? Forget the propriety, the rules, the expectations! They only cause people to be miserable! Why can't you see that?"

The Greengrasses, on the other hand, merely glared at Astoria and said nothing more. This was a perfect example of a Pureblood practically disowning their child, and so Astoria hiccupped, slipped out a few tears, pushed past Blaise and exited the room with her mother-in-law following close behind.

"I believe that my daughter-in-law no longer wishes for your presence here at Malfoy Manor, and until she does you are no longer allowed on the premises," Lucius finally spoke up, causing the three to disappear into the fireplace they'd been standing in front of the entire time. Draco heaved a heavy sigh, eying the door that his wife had gone out of, but Lucius spoke again. "I'll see to Narcissa and Astoria. I suggest the two of you inform the Granger girl."

Blaise groaned and flopped into the chair opposite Draco, who hit his head against his desk, and Lucius merely rolled his eyes as he exited the room.

So much for being free.

* * *

 **Thank you for reading! Technically not a marriage law, but still – this was my other option! Oh, also, someone mentioned that I had already goofed up from the first chapter! Astoria is actually the youngest, and Daphne the oldest, but for the purposes of this story it's switched. (Because I'm too lazy to change it. Oh well!)**

 **I hope you enjoyed! I would love it if you left a review!**


	4. Things Are Shaping Up to be Pretty Odd

**I'm afraid I have a confession to make. The reason that these updates are getting pumped out faster and faster is because I have a History paper that I don't want to do. I don't know why, but it makes me want to write fanfic more as it gets closer and closer. This is absolutely disastrous for my grade, but positively wonderful for you guys!**

 _"Things are shaping up to be pretty odd./ Little deaths in musical beds./ So it seems I'm someone I've never met./ You will only hear these elegant crimes,/ Fall on your ears from criminal dimes./ They spill unfound from a pretty mouth./ Everybody gets there and everybody gets their, and everybody gets their way./ I never said I missed her when everybody kissed her,/ Now I'm the only one to blame..." – Panic! At the Disco, "That Green Gentleman (Things Have Changed)"_

* * *

Granger had been silent for a scarily long time, and pale for even longer. Granted, she had always been pale, but the point being was that she had been even paler for longer than a scarily long time. Blaise and Draco were watching her carefully as her eyes kept skimming over and over the paper, absently flexing and relaxing her right hand just as Blaise had been doing earlier.

She'd already told Jacob to handle the rest of the appointments, that she was taking the rest of the day off, before she came to Malfoy Manor. They'd been forced to tell her the real circumstances of Blaise's previous engagement, and swore her to secrecy. Apparently, they didn't need to, as she had taken an oath of silence for herself.

"There's no way to break an Unbreakable Vow other than death," she said monotonously, although they weren't sure if she were speaking to them or herself, so they merely nodded. "The rest of this damn thing is ironclad though. Clauses so we're faithful to each other, protection of each other, at least two children within eight years. Why two and why eight?"

"Greengrasses are big on their traditions," Draco supplied quietly. "But Malfoy traditions trumped, so Astoria and I are only legally guaranteed one."

"And if we don't do all of that, we die," Blaise hummed, Granger nodding back at them as they both returned to their silence. Again, it wasn't uncomfortable being silent with Granger, but the air was thick and there certainly was a lot to think about. It was certainly a very serious day once your life and the end of it was put into question, Blaise decided.

"If this were simply a legal mistake, we'd be able to at least fight it," Draco spoke wearily, rubbing at his face and sighing, "But with magic and bindings and all of this bullshit, we can't even argue or try anything else."

"Maybe my life would've been easier if I'd stayed a Muggle," Granger murmured thoughtfully, and Blaise was actually quite concerned she'd be going into shock if she wasn't already.

"You'd be bored being a Muggle," Draco corrected her, and she hummed her agreement.

Blaise sighed, dragging his hands through his hair and looked pleadingly at Granger. His fiancé. Future wife. Future mother of his children. Merlin, he felt like throwing up. "Do you want a drink? Because I want a drink."

"Normally I'd decline, but I think today is a special occasion," she smirked wryly, "After all, I did get engaged."

Blaise snorted, rising from his seat and rifling through Draco's secret stash without permission. The blonde in question rose, stretching and grunting when something popped, frowning down at his desk.

"I'm going to check on Astoria, we can sort through this tomorrow once you two have gotten smashed for the evening," he said before looking over at Granger and arching an eyebrow. "I don't think it'd be safe for you to be here. Or Blaise's, for that matter. Suffice it to say that I believe Daphne to be certifiably insane after this stunt."

Blaise handed her a tumbler of firewhiskey, to which she saluted to Draco. "Here, here!" And with that, she tipped her head back and took the shot like a champ, surprising the boys immensely. She stood, washing the glass with her wand and settling it back in Draco's stash. "Come on, Blaise, we can get drunk at my place. I'll even let you crash on my couch."

"What a wonderful way to end the evening," he said, and even he weren't sure if he were joking or not, but he followed her through the Floo all the same.

Her apartment wasn't exactly small for one person and a cat, but it wasn't really built for having another person inhabit the area at the same time either. To make things easier, Blaise assumed his spot on the couch and kicked off his shoes, as Granger had done, and waited as she padded barefoot into her kitchen. He looked around at the mantle and surrounding bookshelves of the wall he was facing, smiling idly at the amount of pictures she had of her friends, family and even her cat. There were some newspaper clippings that he hadn't even taken a second glance at when they were first in print, things with headlines like " _Weasley Wizarding Wheezes Back on Firm Feet!_ " or " _Quibbler Daughter Takes Over Daily Prophet!_ " He got up to read that one, as it informed him that Luna Lovegood, only daughter of Xenophilius Lovegood, owner of _the Quibbler_ , had become the head of the newspaper. He felt his blood stirring, wondering why the barmy woman hadn't cleared his name when she downright _knew_ he'd done nothing wrong, when Granger called from the kitchen.

"I have butterbeer, white wine, and something weird that Luna brought me from Prussia," she announced, "Which would you like?"

"Whatever seems the strongest," he called back, retaking his spot on the couch as he heard glasses and plates clinking behind him. Just as he was thinking he ought to be helping somehow, a heavy weight settled in his lap, and he looked down in surprise to find big yellow eyes set in a squashed-in face staring back at him. They stared at each other, waiting for the other's next move, and Granger took her spot on the small two-seat couch next to him, holding two wine glasses, a plate of reheated lasagna with two forks, and a strange blue bottle with a long skinny neck and decorative glasswork surrounding it, as if the thing were nestled in a glass tumbleweed.

"Here," she said, levitating the plate and offering him a glass as well as the other one as she settled the bottle in her lap and starting trying to pry the top off. "Oh, come on, Luna!" she almost whined, "You can't give me liquor that I can't even open! It's just not fair!"

Blaise traded items with her, looking intently at the bottle as he twisted and turned it, the cat in his lap sniffing it in its form of contribution, before turning it completely upside down and unhooking something. The glasswork shifted just an inch, leaving the top accessible. "Barmy, but brilliant if there are children in the house."

"I agree," she said as he poured the two glasses, the two grimacing down at the bubbling, black liquid. It looked far less appealing once it was out of the pretty bottle, but Blaise took a deep breath and took a sip warily before beaming.

"It tastes like candy floss!" he said before taking another one.

Hermione smiled and did the same, humming her appreciation that it wasn't utterly disgusting, and took a fork and began to eat. She motioned to the other one as she chewed, covering her mouth as she swallowed before speaking. "Eat, it'll absorb some of the alcohol."

He did as she said, mentally repeating to himself that not everyone could cook like his grandmother, and was pleasantly surprised with the result. "This is great, did you cook this?"

"Hmm? Oh, yes, sorry that it's left over though," she waved a hand through the air as she sipped the sweet alcoholic drink. "I make large portions and live off of them for about a week. You're lucky that this was only from last night."

He chuckled, taking another bite and humming. "My grandmother would be happy, she loves cooking. My mother, on the other hand, loves baking."

Hermione leaned back against the couch, completely relaxed now that the contract and their impending marriage was out of sight and out of mind for now. "I'm dreadful at baking, I'm afraid. What's your family like?"

"Oh, well," he blinked, surprised that someone actually wanted to know. "There's my grandmother, she was my father's mother, and she lives in Italy. We visit her frequently, and it's wonderful to go and see some of my heritage. Then, my mother, who kept my father's last name throughout all of her different marriages. She has Italian ancestors and parents, but was born and raised in England, which is why we live here, although she's fluent in Italian. My father built our manor for her, and put up with the horrible weather for her. He was killed in the First War, after I was born, so I don't know all that much about him." He was surprised by how freely he was speaking, and wished that he could blame the entirety of it on the alcohol, but he knew that this spewing of words was bound to happen at some point. He'd been on an emotional ride today, and stressed out and anxious, and whenever he was stressed out and anxious, he gabbed. Granger, however, seemed happy to listen. "Evangeline is my older sister, eight years older than me, and she's great. She was my closest friend growing up, and she would tell me all of these different stories about Mama and my father. She lives in a tiny villa in Italy now, pursuing something with art, but we're proud of her. She's an amazing artist. Then there's me, and then my little sister Lia. Lia is about to turn four in November, but she's as smart as could be."

"They all sound wonderful," Granger finally spoke, and Blaise nodded as he absently pet the orange cat on his lap, making it vibrate and attempt to purr. Granger noticed and smiled, patting the cat on the head. "Crookshanks likes you, by the way."

"Oh, is that his name?" he looked down just as the yellow eyes looked up, and the cat nodded. Blaise furrowed his brows and glanced at his glass, wondered if he'd already drank too much, and Granger giggled.

"It's a secret, but Crookshanks is half-Kneazle," she supplied, curling up and tucking her legs underneath. "I was curious, so I got a DNA test on him. I always knew he was too smart for his own good."

"Explains that, then," Blaise nodded, "Why is it a secret? And what's DNA?"

"DNA stands for deoxyribonucleic acid, and it is the chemical composition of each and every living creature, as each strand has different sequences that determines the characteristics of each person. They're passed down from parents to offspring," she answered, and Blaise nodded along dumbly, knowing that he was already far too drunk to comprehend all of this. "As for it being a secret – I love watching my friends get freaked out when he acts too smart for a plain house cat."

Blaise chuckled, and Crookshanks seemed to appreciate that they were talking about him, as he purred louder. By now his brain was numbing, and he was pleased that the sweet drink was taking all of the stress out for him, and Granger seemed to be thinking the same thing. But, he was still quite confused, and had a lot of questions for her.

"What are we going to do?" he asked, and she sighed as she sadly nudged the empty plate and forks onto the coffee table, nursing her glass and frowning at nothing.

"I guess we'll have to go through with it, won't we?" she asked, taking a sip. "It's about the only thing we can do without dying."

At the last word, Crookshanks stopped purring and lifted his head to look at his owner, almost glaring to get some answers out of her. Blaise kept petting him, and quickly explained to him.

"Granger and I accidentally were bound to a magically enhanced contract to get married to each other. An Unbreakable Vow by contract, actually," he explained, and the cat seemed grateful and resumed purring. "So," he turned back to Granger, "Will this be difficult for you to plan?"

"Oh God, I do have to plan it, don't I?" she cried, throwing an arm over her eyes and groaning. "I didn't even think of that, or telling my parents, or telling my friends. Oh, they're going to go ballistic, thinking that Malfoy put me up to it or something."

"They can get over it, nothing we can do about it anyway," he shrugged, scratching at Crookshanks's ear. "Whatever you want, I can pay for, by the way. No reason you should be able to have your dream wedding because of this, even if it is to me rather than the Weasley."

Granger scoffed, rolling her eyes at him as she sipped her drink, "To be honest, I never really had a dream wedding, and if I did, it certainly wouldn't feature Ron. Don't get me wrong, he's a great friend, but a horrid boyfriend. He never actually knew my birthday until three years ago."

"Dodged an Avada with that one, then," he chuckled, Crookshanks doubling his purring as he seemed to agree. "But, really, you never thought of your wedding? Not even as a little girl?"

Granger hummed, turning thoughtful, and began to tug on a wayward curl and let it spring back into place, and then spoke, "I thought of my dream college, if that counts?"

Blaise snorted, and it was just his luck that he'd been taking a drink, and he was mortified that it shot out of his nose. But damn if it didn't burn like hell though! He quickly waved his wand to clean up the mess before clutching his sinuses, Granger chuckling nearby as she took her wand and began to sort out the burning he was going through.

"Oh, fuck you, Granger, why'd you have to have a sense of humor right when I took a drink?" he asked, clutching at his head and wondering if taking another sip was safe around her if she was going to start being funny.

"I've always had a sense of humor, most people just don't notice it until they're smashed," she huffed, taking a drink and grinning back at him.

"Forgive me, then, I'll be sure to notice from now on," he grinned, smoothing his hair back.

They kept drinking for a while, until they realized that the liquor decided when they had enough. The taste went from candy floss to steamed broccoli, which made the two retch and splutter before deciding it was time for bed. Granger got a couple of blankets and a pillow for Blaise, magicking it to form a makeshift bed for him as he cleaned up and set the half-full glasses inside the fridge, just so they wouldn't go to waste. Blaise thanked her for the drinks, food and place to sleep, and she merely waved her hand through the air.

"Don't worry about it, we are engaged anyway," she said, and the two only smiled at it, since it really was quite funny now that they were three sheets to the wind. He crawled into bed and let her turn out the lights around him as she scooped up Crookshanks and went into her own bedroom with a very soft "Goodnight, Blaise."

"Goodnight, Hermione," he called back as he drifted off very soundly.

* * *

Oh fucking hell, maybe it was all just a really weird dream. Maybe it was still Wednesday night, and the entirety of Thursday had just been a weird dream produced from his euphoria of being a free man. But his head was pounding, and he kept feeling something furry rub against the arm that was hanging down, so he opened his eyes and groaned when he was met with Granger's flat and Granger's cat ramming his face into his arm and trying to get his attention.

"What, cat, what do you want?" he sighed, looking blearily over the side of the couch at it and feeling the room begin to spin. Crookshanks hopped up onto his chest, dropping something cold and hard onto his shirt, and Blaise sincerely hoped it wasn't a skeleton of something, but instead it was a small vial of a familiar murky liquid. "You brought me a hangover potion?" he asked the creature, before it dawned on him, "Right, half-Kneazle. Well, thanks, mate. Did you get some for Granger, too?" He would hate to down the whole thing and leave her to suffer all day.

Crookshanks gave a short meow before nodding, watching as he downed the small vial and leaned back to relax with a sigh. Crookshanks took this moment to curl up on his chest and purr, probably hoping for a small nap. As the potion took effect, Blaise heard water running and realized that Granger was already up, and had probably allowed to let him sleep in. Or maybe she just wasn't ready to deal with him and everything else yet, he honestly couldn't blame her. "Say, what time does Granger have work?" he asked, feeling silly for asking the cat, "We still need to go see Draco, and I'd hate for her to be late."

The cat gave ten short chirps before going back to sleep, and Blaise sighed when he noticed it was just nearing seven-thirty. Surely it wouldn't take hours to talk to Draco. Blaise blindly searched for his wand, the cat still sleeping soundly on his chest, and cast a spell to clean his teeth and clean his hair. He could shave when he got home, he reassured as he patted and rubbed his cheek and chin. He turned his attention onto Crookshanks, smiling at the furry beast as it began to purr. He vaguely remembered Draco complaining about the thing back at Hogwarts, that it was ugly and mangy and absolutely horrid, but Blaise thought differently. He could see where Granger would find him cute, and the animal surely worshipped her and cared for her a great deal. So he thought of it as an honor to be accepted by Crookshanks, especially since they were going to have to deal with each other come the wedding.

Blaise paused, and Crookshanks opened an eye to check on him. He had no idea how long they had to get married. For all he knew, it could be today, or next week, or any period of time. It certainly wasn't yesterday, as they were alive enough to get drunk, but how was he supposed to know exactly when the deadline was?

"Alright, I'm all ready to go," Granger called as she clicked around her room and checked on various things in there. "Crookshanks, you're all fed, my bed's made, clothes and towel are in the hamper…" she trailed off, thinking of other things to check on, and made her way to the living room, where she stopped and blinked at the Slytherin graduate lying on her couch and stroking her cat. She smiled, feeling rather hopeful that maybe everything would turn out, and quickly dropped it when Blaise looked up at her.

She was wearing black slacks again, this time with a silver blouse, and Blaise wondered if silver were considered a color or an accessory to the monochrome trend she continuously committed. In any case, he picked Crookshanks up and stood, settling the complaining feline into his former spot, which was still nice and warm for him to curl up and go back to sleep.

"I'm ready," he said, taking a deep breath and sighing as they headed to the Floo. They called out for the Manor, and were relocated to Draco's office, where he and Astoria were going over something and speaking quietly to each other.

"I don't know why we can't just use the Malfoy family crib, darling," Draco murmured, and Astoria gave a soft snort as she circled something, no doubt a crib that she liked.

"Darling, that thing is a cherished family heirloom, yes, but I want something for our own. I'm getting very tired of upholding so many traditions, especially when they only seem pointless," she answered before looking up and smiling happily at the two. "Good morning! I'm sorry to have rushed out of here like that last night, my family is not being incredibly supportive of me and I couldn't take it for much longer, but I do want you to know that I am on your sides. If either of you need me for anything, please know that I am here." Everyone knew that this was mainly directed at Granger, but the brunette still smiled and thanked her.

"Now, upon going over this with my lovely partner," Draco said, smiling over at Astoria before going back to Blaise and Granger with his normal, neutral expression. "We've noticed a few things, such as a time limit." The two tensed at this, but Astoria took over.

"You'll have to get married before or on December fifth of this year, and absolutely _no_ dating anyone else for this amount of time."

"As you noticed, you have eight years after your marriage to produce a child, but the second one must come at least three years or less after that."

"What if we have twins?" Blaise considered dully, and Astoria shrugged casually.

"Then considered it fulfilled," she said before frowning, "And I'm afraid, as you may have guessed, there's no room for divorce." The two nodded, having discussed that option extensively last night before realizing that they wouldn't want to do that to the children they were required to have. Blaise was proud of them both, mainly himself, for handling things so maturely. "I suggest telling your families and closest friends right away, but try not to let this get into the public too much. It could still be considered an arranged marriage by the Ministry, and will only make things worse."

Granger nodded, staying silent as she waited for any further instructions, but Blaise spoke next.

"Would you like to come and meet my family?" he asked, and she blinked at him in surprise. "I'll tell them beforehand, I promise, but I can assure you that things will go over better if you take the time to meet them."

"That sounds like an excellent idea, but it may be a while before you can meet mine," Granger answered, "I plan to give them time to adapt to the idea of everything, and letting them choose when to meet you, if that's alright."

"Of course," he nodded, and they turned when they heard Draco scoff.

"Why do I get the feeling that you two may end up thanking Daphne for all of this?" he asked.

"Oh, no, I never will, simply for the fact I have to tell Harry and the Weasleys," Granger said as she stood with a grim face. "I have to go and set up everything for work, it seems that a few of the brides took offense for my absence yesterday and decided to trash the offices. If you need me, please send an owl."

The three nodded, watching as she disappeared in the green flames, and Astoria rounded on Blaise with a wicked grin.

"I can't wait to see what your family thinks of her, ooh, you'll have to tell me everything, Blaise!" she crowed as Blaise grumbled back at her.

"I'm going to go back to bed for a few more hours before I do any such thing," he sniffed as he stood, straightening his clothes and glancing over the pictures and descriptions of baby cribs. He pointed to one, idly, and said, "I think Draco likes that one." Thus, the two were distracted, and he was left to Floo back to his apartment and flop into bed, completely exhausted and wondering why he actually missed being in Granger's flat.

* * *

 **I wanted to get back to Draco and Astoria before I ended the chapter, so sorry if it isn't as fleshed out as some of you may have hoped.**

 **Please review and let me know what you think!**


	5. Somebody to Love

**Hey guys, I'm sorry that it took so long to update, but I finished my History paper. It was horrible and boring and I hated every second of it, but I did it for you guys. I'm also giving a fair warning that I may be having some dental work done after finals, which I'm dreading because it's that normal procedure that everyone has to go through but I am plagued with this phobia of my teeth falling out or anything happening to them. So this should be an adventure that I do not look forward to, but I'm not going to think about it until absolutely necessary! So please don't mention it! Enjoy the chapter!**

 _"Can anybody find me somebody to love?/ Each morning I get up I die a little/ Can barely stand on my feet/ Take a look in the mirror and cry/ Lord what you're doing to me/ I have spent all my years in believing you/ But I just can't get no relief,/ Lord!/ Somebody, somebody/ Can anybody find me somebody to love?" - Queen, "Somebody to Love"_

* * *

Blaise collapsed into his bed, sighing heavily and absentmindedly unbuttoning his shirt to prepare for a long, hot shower. Surprisingly, his mother had taken the news well, Lia even more so. The little girl had squealed and proclaimed that it sounded like one of her story books, and eagerly chattered on about the wedding and meeting her new sister-in-law-to-be and if she'd be nicer than the last one.

He hadn't heard from Granger since that morning, and wondered how she was doing with everything. By this point, he felt that he was quickly coming to grips with the whole thing, but then again he'd been sure that he'd be stuck in a loveless marriage for the rest of his life and forced to pretend to be happy. At least with Granger, he had the capacity to feel things around her, whereas Daphne had seemed to suck all life from him.

He paused from scrubbing his hair, staring at the shower head and beginning to figure out the workings of his newfound relationship with Granger. They'd spoken little during Hogwarts, and he found it embarrassing to admit that he found her cute in their younger years, before her name began to follow behind Potter's and simply preceded praises or jealous remarks over her intelligence. But other than that, she'd simply slipped out of his radar for the majority of the school year, other than when Draco complained about the trio or when she'd nearly get herself killed doing this or that with her two dunderheads. Out of the whole group, Granger was the one he liked the most, as she had actually worked for her respect and was keen to maintain it. Potter seemed unused to any amount of respect and was still bumbling along with it being bestowed upon him for nothing, and Weasley...well, Weasley was just a dunderhead who he felt demanded respect. Blaise wasn't entirely too sure, as he'd never had a decent conversation with either male thirds of the "Golden Trio."

He paused, thinking over the last year, where he should've been in his seventh year at Hogwarts, but instead he hid out in Italy with his family. He remembered every horrible detail Draco told him about the school, and how unbearable it was for everyone, including him. Especially him. He remembered how pale and toneless Draco was when he described the events going on at his own house. He remembered how he choked and described seeing Potter, Weasley and Granger tossed in before him, demanding that he identify them. How Granger had obviously hit Potter with a stinging hex, saving his life, and how Draco had lied through his teeth for the three of them, for everyone in the whole damn Wizarding world. He could see it, unwillingly, in his own imagination, the Malfoy ballroom. Dark, unforgiving, and filled with screams from the girl who had annoyed everybody but him when they were young.

The soap toppled over and knocked Blaise out of his thoughts, and he picked it up with a frown. Granger had been through a lot, probably the most out of anybody, and he wondered idly if anybody had talked to her about any of it. Wondered if she would want to talk to him about it. Wondered if she would want to talk to him about anything in her life, about her childhood, family, friends. He groaned and settled his head against the slick, granite shower, knowing that he and Granger had a lot to do, just to get their acquaintanceship into a friendship alone.

He dressed in a soft jumper and pajama pants, making sure his flat was cool enough to allow him to do so, and padded barefoot into the kitchen to fix himself something to eat. Where would they move into, his flat or hers? When would they make that transition, before or after the wedding? Or would they buy a flat, or even a house, together? Would she mind spending a few holidays in Italy, or even learning Italian? Would Crookshanks mind children, when they were ready to have them? He had so many questions going through his head, he didn't hear the Floo go off until he heard heels clicking on the tile in the kitchen.

He looked up, prepared to see Daphne, but instead was met with the brunette his thoughts were occupying. She looked frazzled, but gave a weary smile for him anyway.

"Sorry to come over unannounced, I wouldn't normally, but I was in between places and didn't have an owl," she explained.

"It's fine, I was just worried you were someone else," he said, and she gave a small chuckle that made him grin. "Would you like something to eat? Or drink?"

She arched an eyebrow, a small grin on her lips, "Alcoholic or non?"

"Depends on the day you've been having," he supplied easily, cracking a few more eggs into the bowl he'd been using. "Liquor cabinet is next to the breadbasket, tea is to the right of that," he offered, and she clicked off that way with a sigh. "Whatever you're having is fine with me. You alright with omelets?"

"Sounds perfect," she said, filling up the wine glasses and settling one gently next to where he was cooking. He was struck by how calm, easy and domestic all of this was, and stifled a chuckle. She arched an eyebrow at him, twirling the Chardonnay easily, and he gave her a grin. "I've only just started to get to know you in the past two days, and already things are easier than they ever were with Daphne."

She gave a small snort, leaning against the counter next to him as he stood before the stovetop. "How long were you two engaged?"

He thought, pausing as he was about to pour the eggs into a small pan, "Since the War ended. We were trying to go slow, to pass off some semblance of a relationship, but...well, you know." He returned to his task as she hummed, sipping her drink quietly before speaking.

"I talked to my parents today," she said, and he turned to glance over at her. "They're...coping, surprisingly well. They would like to meet you tomorrow night, if you're free."

"I'd love to," he nodded before freezing completely, accidentally giving the first omelet far too many eggs. "What do I wear?"

She gave a light, bell-like laugh and a bright grin, and he felt warmed to the core to realize that it was all for him, and it was kind. "Just a button down and a pair of dress pants is fine, Blaise. And don't worry, my parents are just as clueless about this whole thing as we are." She furrowed her brow, and set down the glass before she hopped up on the countertop she'd been leaning on. "How did your family take it?"

"Well, my mother and my little sister took it quite well, my sister even more so," he explained as he focused on cooking. "My mother is going to tell my Grandmother, as well as my elder sister, and would like to meet you as soon as you're free to."

She nodded absently before sighing and tugging her hair out of the bun, letting the outrageous curls spill out and frame her face. She looked so tired, and so drained, and Blaise had no idea how to help her. "God, Blaise, what are we going to do? Do you know how hard it is to plan a wedding, especially when you've practically just met the person? I have no idea what your favorite food is, what your favorite color is, no idea what your childhood was like, and I doubt you can say the same for me. We're supposed to learn everything about each other in five months on top of venues, and centerpieces, and wedding parties and all of that bullshit!" She was panicking, he could tell that much, and was subtly turning off the fire on the stove. "And I don't know what I'm doing! I've never thought about any of this, let alone what you would like to do! We come from practically two different worlds, with our own sets of traditions, and - and..." She was losing steam, and trying to find more words to let her feelings known, but he could guess. Fear, stress, panic. Worry beyond belief. She looked at him with those big, sad brown eyes, and practically oozed sadness. "What if we don't work out, Blaise? We have to have children at some point. I don't want my children going through that for their entire lives, or knowing that they weren't even wanted."

"Alright, first thing first - drink the rest of that," he pointed at the wine glass and watched until she downed it easily. "Secondly - we will work out what to do with the children once the idea of them becomes more prevalent. Other than that, we work together and learn about each other in the process of planning the wedding. You have your own on top of how many others to plan?"

"Roughly eight, personally," she answered, and he had no idea what that really meant before he nodded.

"Right - I'll help where I can, such as groomsmen and food and whatnot. How does that sound?"

"That sounds...manageable," she admitted, and he nodded with a smile before settling a hand on her shoulder. This was really the only form of contact they'd had since the bond had taken place, and he was surprised to find her warm, and her silk silver blouse cold and calming.

"We'll get through this, Granger," he insisted steadily, and she nodded before placing her hand over his, much like when the bonding had taken place.

"Call me 'Hermione,'" she insisted, and he nodded before smiling easily at her, capturing her hand and giving it a chaste kiss on the back of it. The woman blushed brightly as he gave a charming grin and a wink, tugging her hand away and swatting at the air near him. "I said to call me 'Hermione,' not try to get into my pants."

"But ah," he turned to the stove with a flourish, waggling his eyebrows at her cheesily, "That is what we will be doing later, no?"

She snorted, a hard sound that startled him and made him crack up laughing with her, full-body laughs that rang through his flat and giving it a certain life that it'd never had before. It seemed to turn brighter, and even seemed more comforting now that this memory was enclosed in its walls forever. Blaise was alarmed at how easily they were getting along, but he knew that this only meant further snags along the road. However, he was sure they'd be able to figure it out as they came along, and didn't find himself with a gut-wrenching worry like he had with Daphne.

"Alright, so," she said as they calmed down and he returned to cooking. "What is your favorite food?"

He paused, thinking as he watched the eggs begin to cook. His grandmother was a brilliant cook, so he had many dishes to choose from, and tried to place which one he liked the most. Grang - Hermione could tell that he was thinking and allowed him to be silent, sneakily reaching for his untouched glass of white wine to sip as she waited.

"I suppose," he began softly, his eyes focusing somewhere else, "It would have to be my grandmother's fettuccine alfredo. She makes her own pasta, it's wonderful, I'm sure you'll love it."

"Mm, I love alfredo, but I'm not sure that would be my favorite food," she said, thinking as well, the two relaxing into sharing space with one another slowly. "I would have to say...french toast, with eggs, bacon, and fried potatoes. Whenever I would stay at my aunt's house - on my mother's side, I can't stand my dad's sister - she would make it for me, no matter if it was breakfast, lunch or dinner."

"I have the stuff to make that," he offered, arching an eyebrow at her and smiling as her eyes lit up. "Grab the bread, I'll grab bacon and potatoes and we can easily turn the omelets into scrambled eggs."

"Are you sure?" she fretted, although she was already hopping off the counter.

"Of course! Although, you are helping me, after you get me another glass of wine since you stole mine," he insisted with a smile, settling the bacon and potatoes on the counter and reusing the bowl he'd mixed the eggs with. They cracked a few more eggs in, some milk, and cinnamon and sugar before dipping the slices of bread in, talking and asking questions. Blaise's favorite color was a deep navy blue, like the night sky, and Hermione's favorite color was periwinkle, because it was light and airy and it was fun to say. The eggs were set aside as soon as they were done, making room for the bacon and potatoes and the french toast. Blaise made room for Hermione in front of the stove, and they easily maneuvered around each other to check or flip the food.

Once everything was done and on plates, Blaise led her to the small island countertop after flicking his wand and having parchment and books fly off to sort themselves out. They sat side by side, Hermione humming around the fork as she took her first bite, and Blaise was surprised by how well they'd done as well. They ate and talked, and he asked about all the things they would have to do in order to get the wedding in order.

"Well, there's possible venues, guests, wedding parties, dress, tux, bridesmaid dresses, groomsmen tuxes, flowers, centerpieces, music, photographs, honeymoon destination, transportation for bride and groom, transportation for guests, where to have the reception, where to have the actual wedding, cake, gift registry, food," she paused, and Blaise was too busy gaping at her to notice that a bit of egg slipped off his fork and back onto the plate. "Of course, that's just off the top of my head."

"Merlin's pants," he breathed as she chuckled, "And you do that for eight different people daily?"

"Well, some make it easier than others and come in with all their things figured out, just leaving me to set them up, but others come in and ask me what I think would be best for them, as if I actually know them well enough to make that big of a decision," she scoffed.

"Well, where do you want the wedding? Anywhere you could think of, name it, don't think about whether it's possible or not," he answered, and she faltered for a moment.

"I...Hogwarts," she said, and he blinked at her before humming.

"That would certainly be big enough, and take care of catering if we can work it out with McGonagall," he said. "And she loves you, and doesn't hate me, and of course it wouldn't hurt to ask, especially since the winter holiday starts roughly the same time our deadline is. Or do you think that would be pushing it?"

"I..." she blinked at him, stunned apparently, before shaking her head and setting those wild curls tumbling everywhere, "I guess I can write to her and explain, and ask her for the favor."

"Sounds brilliant, plus that kind of takes care of transportation for everyone, seeing as they can't Apparate into Hogwarts," she coughed on her drink, and he wondered what he could've said to have bothered her, but she was looking at him with wide eyes and a small "o" of a mouth. "I mean, they can just take the carriages from Hogsmeade, or work something out with McGonagall and Floo in."

"That makes everything easier, actually," she insisted, "Plus, since the house elves are paid now, they'd be getting paid more for the overtime."

"Right," he nodded, and she smiled like he had passed some sort of test. "And I'm sure they'd love to do something fancy for a wedding."

"Of course," she nodded before beaming, "Do you mind if I borrow some parchment? I feel like writing McGonagall right now."

"Oh, sure," he pulled a blank piece out from under a stack of books, quills and parchment that had been pushed off to the side at some point, offering her a self-inking quill as well. She pushed aside the plate and bent over her work, her handwriting graceful and elegant as her hair spilled over her shoulders. "I can send it for you in the morning, if you would like."

She nodded, intent on her work, and he wondered idly if maybe if he'd talked to her, maybe during their third year, maybe they could've been doing this all along. She hardly seemed to care about House stereotypes, as she seemed to like him right off the bat when he showed up in her office last week, so maybe they could've been friends. They could've done homework together, and she would've had someone to complain to when her friends were being idiots. Blaise would've felt obligated to reign Draco in more, and stand up for her, let her know that he cared. Hell, maybe one day in their fifth year, after things just started getting bad, they would've gotten chewed out by Umbridge because he'd dared to hold her hand in public, and he would only have given the brunette a wicked grin as they both thought of what they got up to in private.

He shook his head, blinking at the side of her face to make sure she hadn't somehow guessed what he was thinking, but she was still intently focused on her letter. He gave a small, quiet sigh, just knowing that his school crush was going to make this whole "marriage" thing ten times worse.

She finished her letter and he set it aside, already tied up and ready for the owl in the morning. They finished eating, but kept talking, moving onto his couch and relaxing as they idly wandered into more personal areas of conversation.

"I love my mother, don't get me wrong," Blaise stated, and Hermione nodded back at him, focused on him speaking as she moved the rim of the wine glass back and forth over her bottom lip, and he began looking anywhere but her so that he wouldn't do something brash. "I just...hated all the guys she would get married and unmarried to. She loved my father, probably the only one she honestly loved, and she loved me and my sister, but it just...hurt, I guess, to see all of her energy going into getting married and remarried, just to keep the money coming. Pureblood wives don't have a lot of skills to go out and work, and so she did what she knew how to do - get married. I mean, we weren't lacking at all, don't get me wrong, she didn't need to, but...she wanted to make sure that my sister and I were going to be okay, and we would be able to pursue whatever kind of career we wanted because we wanted to do it, not because we had to."

"Sounds noble," she murmured. "Also, sad."

"I've thought of it that way too, but I just remember that it took a lot of my mother's time away from me and my sister," he sighed, looking up at the ceiling and cradling his wine glass. "Evangeline used to be my best friend, especially before Hogwarts."

"Did something happen between you two?" Hermione asked, and he looked at her in surprise, almost as if he were surprised that he was actually speaking to someone else, before he shook his head.

"No, not really, we just grew apart. She's a whole eight years older than me, so we never went to school together. By the time I was starting, she'd already graduated a year prior. I had a whole seven years practically by myself, and I guess that's why I never really branched out during school. I was used to being alone."

"Could've come 'n talked to me," Hermione murmured, her bare feet tucked up underneath her, and Blaise gave her a small grin.

"Couldn't've," he murmured back, both of their faces flushed. Perhaps they'd had too many refills, but he couldn't be bothered to care, especially that it was his second time getting drunk in the past twenty four hours.

"Why not?" she challenged.

"I had a huge crush on you, especially when we were younger, and then later you always had Potter and Weasley following you around," he said, rolling his eyes, "One look at me, and they would've killed me."

"Probably," she sighed wearily, running her fingers through her hair, and Blaise idly got the want to do that as well before he stopped himself. "They always were terribly biased. I remem - wait," she turned her gaze back onto him, eyebrows coming down, "You fancied me?"

"Yeah," he gave a lopsided grin.

"Why?" her eyes were wide, and she honestly couldn't believe why he would've ever done such a thing.

He gave a quick shrug, "You were smart. And I liked your hair. I thought it was like a cloud. I was eleven. Not too keen on anything else a woman has at that point."

She flushed, and he could sense she wasn't sure what to do in the conversation anymore. He sat up, taking her wineglass, and trudged over to pour them into the sink. "If you'd like to crash here, I'll give you the bed."

"Oh, no, I can make it home," she insisted, still seated on the couch before she turned to him and looked at him cautiously, "Do you...that is to say...are you "keen" on me now?"

"Do I find you attractive?" he leaned against the wall, crossing his arms over his chest and looking her over. She allowed the appraisal, staying perfectly still, and he found himself being drawn back to her eyes again and again. "Contrary to what others may think, Hermione, you're actually very beautiful." He needed to stop drinking, it made him far too honest.

She gave a small snort accompanied with a small smile before standing and picking up her shoes, "Thank you for the dinner, and the wine, Blaise. Don't forget to owl McGonagall in the morning?"

"Wouldn't dream of it," he grinned, moving over to see her to the fireplace.

"Alright," she nodded, turning to leave before he caught her hand again, pressing a kiss to it and never breaking eye contact, even when she turned bright red and got even cuter. She tugged her hand away, gently, and Blaise allowed it as he straightened himself out. She gave a small smile, and Blaise was surprised to find the flames reflected in her eyes. "What did I say about that before?"

"And what was my reply?" he grinned, chuckling with her before offering her the pot full of Floo powder. "Get home safely."

"I think I can manage," she scoffed, grabbing a handful before tipping her head to him. "Goodnight, Blaise."

"Goodnight, Hermione," he replied, watching her leave in the green flames. His flat seemed to grow dimmer as she left, and he hummed as he made his way to his bed and flopped down. He was already fairly sure of something, but he wanted to be sober when he came to the absolute conclusion that his school crush on Hermione Granger never really went away, and that he really had to do something about that before it ruined their relationship.

* * *

 **This wasn't originally what I had in mind, as I was planning on them realizing it gradually and having Blaise realize it first, but then I got to thinking and decided that that's just boring and takes far too long. So Blaise is well on his way to coping, and now we just have to wait and see what he decides to do!**

 **Thank you for reading, and I would love it if you could leave me a review!**


	6. This is Where the Heart Lies

**Thanks for the reviews, and I wish everyone luck on any tests, finals, or papers that they have yet to do! But, don't worry about that right now, relax! You got this, because I believe in you!**

 _"It's in the soul of a city/ What it does after it crumbles and burns/ And it's in the blood of a hero/ To know where he goes he may never return/ This is why we do it/ This is worth the pain/ This is why we fall down/ And get back up again/ This is where the heart lies/ This is from above/ Love is this, this is love..." - the Script, "This = Love"_

* * *

Blaise was standing in front of the full length mirror in his closet, frowning at the reflection as if it would help him any. Perhaps he should've heeded his grandmother's advice and gotten a talking one, but he was sure it would just repeatedly point out a flaw to him. Or it could be like Theo's, where it continuously flirted with him until he had to lock it up in some deep closet in his house. Speaking of, he would have to check back up on Theo, see how he was doing. No matter how barmy he was, he had been Blaise's closest friend at one time, and he was still sure that he was Theo's only friend. Anyway, back to the point at hand - he was standing in only his boxers in front of the mirror, and inwardly panicking.

Did Muggles have specific colors for going to meet future in-laws? For wizards, the proper thing to wear was black, navy, or forest green dress robes, and witches could wear whatever seemed to be the formal equivalent. But Muggles...what was he supposed to do there? Should he just go with a navy or green shirt? But, if he went with green, Hermione would think he was just supporting Slytherin in front of her Muggle parents, who probably didn't think very highly of his House since the war. Navy, then. Should he wear a tie? What color tie? Would silver be proper? Or would he look too much like a Ravenclaw? Err, wait, were Ravenclaws blue and silver or blue and bronze? He was fairly certain they were blue and bronze, but he wasn't entirely sure.

"Blaise?" Hermione's voice called out, and he gave a very unmanly squeak before diving for clothing, snatching the navy dress shirt and quickly shoving his legs into dark, slim-fitting trousers. "Blaise, are you here?"

"Err, just a moment!" he called, "I'm panicking! Also, dressing, so I doubt it'd be best to come in!" He immediately paused in his endeavors, smacking himself in the forehead and cursing everything that had ever lead to him saying that. Merlin, why was he so frazzled about this woman?

"Take your time," she chuckled, just outside of his bedroom door. "Do you need help choosing?"

He finally got the trousers working properly, hoping into socks and shoes, "Actually, that would be incredibly kind of you, if you don't mind."

"Hardly, just let me know when I can come in," she sounded like she was smiling, but he could tell that it held no ill-will. It was refreshing, actually, to be around someone who smiled so much and didn't have something hidden behind it.

He walked to the door, opening it and offering her to come inside, but her eyes widened and she blushed the tiniest bit before stepping inside. He wondered about her reaction before realizing that he still didn't have his shirt on. He silently cursed the heavens, while also kind of thanking them that he was fit, and followed her to the closet as she picked up the navy shirt from the floor. Her hair was back in a careful little bun, no strands slipping out this time, and was in a black dress with tiny white dots, looking like something his grandmother had worn in her younger years. Paired with a pearl bracelet, she looked lovely, and beautiful, and other such adjectives.

"Stick with the navy, it suits you," she said, handing him the shirt and refusing to make eye contact. He slid it on quietly, buttoning it up as quickly as possible so she wouldn't be uncomfortable for much longer. As he tucked it into his pants, she came up and began to roll his sleeves up for him, leaving him to get a close view of her face, finding a sprinkle of freckles along her tiny button nose. She rolled both sleeves up, stepping back for a moment to appraise him before frowning and turning back to the closet. She came back out with a silver tie, putting it around her own neck and tying it on herself. He watched her in amusement, standing still as she lifted it over her own head and onto his, fitting it snugly into place before thinking better of it and loosening it for him. He took a breath, and was surprised to find the air surrounding him smelling like...sunshine, the oddest of things. With a blink, he realized it smelled like Hermione.

"I like your perfume, it's very nice," he said, causing her to blink back at him and give a small smile.

"I don't wear perfume, but thank you," she said, offering her arm to him, "Ready? We're going to Apparate there. Mum's already been given the warning, so she shouldn't be startled too badly."

He nodded, trying to match her easy smile and failing, as he held onto her and turned into space. They reappeared with a pop, landing themselves in a bedroom, with white, wispy curtains and a canopy over the bed and books on every available surface. Hermione's childhood bedroom, he noticed with a smile, before she gently took his hand and led him down some stairs, down a narrow hallway, and into a living room. It was done in red and cream colors, warm and cozy for the Grangers, and he froze once he realized that Mr. and Mrs. Granger were standing from the sectional that filled the entire corner of the room, and were coming to stand in front of him and Hermione.

Mrs. Granger immediately hugged her daughter, kissing her cheek and beaming at her. The woman had short brown curls that were beginning to grey, oval glasses resting on the peak of her nose. She was slim and petite, and dressed in slacks and a blouse. Mr. Granger was taller, more wiry than Blaise would've expected, and dressed much like his wife, although his hair was darker and even curlier than his wife's, matching his daughter's almost perfectly as he bent to hug her. Once they had properly greeted their daughter, they both turned and smiled kindly to Blaise. It was at this moment that he realized they'd been talking to one another, and he faltered and stammered before clearing his throat and offering his hand.

"Hello Mr. and Mrs. Granger, I'm Blaise Zabini. It's a pleasure to meet you, thank you for having me in your home." Thank Merlin for Pureblood manners and decorum and all that rubbish.

Mrs. Granger arched an eyebrow at him, and Mr. Granger and Hermione were smiling at each other, before the elder woman knocked his hand aside and enveloped him in a hug, startling him to pieces and making his mind go blank. The woman was hugging him. He'd just met this woman. Why was she hugging him? Did Muggles greet each other with hugs? Or did this woman greet others with hugs? Was he supposed to hug Mr. Granger? He really didn't want to, but he could if necessary.

"Thank you for being so polite, Blaise, but you can relax now," she said as she pulled away but held him at arms length, smiling brightly at him and making the crows feet around her eyes crinkle. "We won't hurt you, and we hardly blame you for the circumstances. And please, call me Nora."

Mr. Granger, however, offered his hand as Nora stepped away, making Blaise breathe ten times easier as he realized he wouldn't have to hug the other man, "Stephen, it's nice to meet you as well, Blaise. Hermione's told us about everything that's happened these past few days, and we hear that you've been through quite a bit?"

He sighed, relaxing already and giving the two a grin as he shook Stephen's hand, "Oh, you have no idea."

The two chuckled, and Stephen spoke as Hermione patted Blaise's shoulder, "Well, dinner will be ready soon. Are you a fan of Swiss steak?"

"I've never had it before, sir, but I'm sure it's delicious," he said.

"Damn right it is, I'm cooking," he said with a grin, leading the company into the kitchen with a wave of his hand, Nora snorting and rolling her eyes at her husband. "Nora was graced with all of the beauty, I got all of the cooking skills. Hermione, thankfully, was given both."

"I'm aware of both," Blaise said as Hermione began to blush up to her roots, glaring at her parents and digging her nails into Blaise's shoulder. This didn't deter him, however, as he only grinned, "She taught me how to properly make french toast just the other night."

"Oh, Lucy's recipe?" Nora brightened at her daughter, standing on her toes to reach the plates from the cabinet. Hermione, for her part, manually shut the blinds on the windows surrounding the table before reaching for her wand. Blaise, on the other hand, was already reaching for the plates that were stacked on the shelf, Nora blinking back at him before smiling happily at her daughter, who only grinned and pocketed her wand for the evening.

Swiss steak, as Blaise soon realized, was very thin beef that had been cooked with stewed tomatoes, served on top of white rice. It was chewy, but actually very good, and Blaise happily took to it.

"So, Blaise, what House were you in Hogwarts?" Nora asked casually across from him, and Blaise looked up only to find a warm, comforting face.

"Oh, err...I was in Slytherin, ma'am," he answered, expecting to find a gasp or some horrified glance between husband and wife.

Instead, Stephen only hummed around his dinner, "Is that the one with the snakes?"

"Yes, sir," he answered again, Hermione dutifully keeping her gaze on her plate when he most desperately needed her.

"Cunning and ambition, correct?" Nora questioned, taking a sip of her water.

"Yes, ma'am," he said, more slowly as he glanced again to Hermione, who was seated to his right.

"Oh, lovely, those are wonderful traits to have," Nora stated, smiling happily at him as he noticed Hermione had been smiling to herself the entire time, and gave him a cheeky wink once she looked up to take a sip of her water.

"So, Blaise, do you have a job?" Stephen asked eagerly, "I've heard different careers of the wizarding world from a few of Hermione's friends, and I think it's all terribly interesting."

"Oh, well...no, sir, I don't have a job," he answered quietly, thinking that this would surely be his downfall.

"Oh, well that's alright," Stephen assured him, "Hermione wanted to wait a bit too, to figure out what she wanted to do that would make her happiest. It makes all the difference, in my opinion."

"I waited six years before I went to college," Nora informed him, shrugging easily at him, "I just knew that I would bounce around with no idea what I really wanted to do, and would only waste time and money in the process."

"Err...well, I haven't really thought of having a job," he admitted, settling his cutlery down and rubbing his hands anxiously. "My family is...pretty well off, I guess I should say, so I never thought of having one as terribly important."

"Then what do you do all day? Any hobbies?" Stephen asked, arching an eyebrow.

"Well...I mostly read, sir," he answered, realizing that he would probably be the world's most incredibly dull man if he hadn't had his recent problems thrust onto him.

Nora immediately whipped around to her daughter, waving her fork and glaring sternly at her, and Blaise just knew that this was going to be the end of it, but Nora gave a small smile as Hermione lifted her head, "No, you can't spend all day, every day reading. We'd never see you again."

Hermione wrinkled her nose, making Stephen and Nora laugh at their daughter lovingly. "Spoilsport, you ruin my fun!"

"Don't feel the need to rush and find a job or anything, Blaise," Stephen insisted, dabbing at his mouth with a napkin before snorting, "I was delivering pizzas at the time I started dating Nora, and every time I visited, her father would badger me and ask me when I was going to get a better job."

"He would," Nora giggled to herself, "Even though Stephen insisted that he was going to dental school while he was delivering pizzas."

"And now I have the same job as his daughter, so he can't say anything more to me on the matter," Stephen said smugly before grimacing and smiling sweetly to his daughter. "Hermione, would you mind with the dishes while your mother and I talk in the living room?"

The brunette sighed, standing and taking the plates by hand, Blaise standing and helping her. They made their way to the kitchen sink, and Hermione showed him how to do them by hand.

"What do you think they're talking about?" he asked idly as he dried the dishes she handed him with a rag.

"How much they like you, and how much they like you more than they ever liked Ron," she answered with a smile.

"What happened to you two, anyway?" he asked quietly before realizing his error, "Err, that is, if you want me to know, of course."

She chuckled, "Like you said with Daphne, we were too different in all the ways it mattered. We're still good friends thought, because we broke it off before we started hating each other, but we just...hardly had much in common, other than a few things like our friendship with Harry."

"Was Weasley really that bad to make your parents hate him?"

"Oh, as a friend, no, he wasn't bad at all," she shrugged, "But when it's a boyfriend, or a potential spouse...well, there's certain criteria that he didn't quite fill, I suppose."

"And...did I?" he worried, and she smiled up at him before nudging him with her shoulder.

"Believe me, this one dinner went far better than all the ones they've had with Ron combined," she assured, and Blaise relaxed and breathed a sigh of relief. "I even told them how Crookshanks liked you, and that seemed to give you a stamp of approval before they ever even saw you."

"That picky, huh?" he teased, and she gave a laugh.

"You should see what that cat picks out to eat," she scoffed fondly.

They were silent for a few more moments, not hearing anything from the living room, which Blaise tried to ignore so he wouldn't panic too much before he paused in his task and turned to Hermione, who was nearly done.

"I lied to your parents," he admitted, and she blinked back at him. "I actually, err...I'm fond of drawing. I just haven't done it in a long while, because Daphne hated it."

"What a horrid person!" Hermione pursed her lips, her eyebrows coming down before she huffed and looked at him fiercely, "It's a wonderful skill to have, Blaise, don't ever let anyone deter you from it or anything else you enjoy!"

He blinked at her in surprise before smiling easily back at her, "Thank you, Hermione. It really means a lot."

She shrugged it off easily, only giving him a smile in return as she handed him the last pan to dry.

The evening ended smoothly, as the Grangers recounted family stories that made everyone laugh, even if Blaise had to be taught about a few Muggle concepts such as telephones and ski resorts. By the end of the night, after Hermione had Apparated him back to his flat, he was happily exhausted and wonderfully calm about the status of his in-laws. He collapsed onto his couch with a happy sigh, and Hermione gracefully joined him, undoing her hair and sighing once the pressure was released from her scalp.

"Well, now that that's settled," he announced as Hermione chuckled back at him before he grinned wickedly up at her, as he was slouched quite low on the cushions, "Now you just have to meet my family." He quickly dissolved into laughs as Hermione paled and looked quite distraught, and then began laughing even louder once she took to hitting him with the cushiest pillow he owned.

As far as he was concerned, things could only be smooth sailing for him from there.

Or so he thought.

* * *

 **Hello again! I just had the most perfect picture of the Grangers, and I had to get it out and to you as soon as possible, which meant today. I also love when I update things in a timely manner, as it doesn't normally happen all too often.**

 **Thank you for reading, I would be honored if you took the time to leave me a review! Have a wonderful day!**


	7. Good Girl Who Needs a Little Company

**Hello! I hope everyone is having a wonderful day! To be honest, I'm having a bit of a weird one – my car is stuck at the shop until tomorrow because someone failed to call me before they closed/before my boyfriend had to go to work, and my phone strangely texted one of my closest yet far-away friends random characters and had her all kinds of concerned about me even though I was simply informing her that I was just posting her birthday picture. So, yeah, odd day.**

 _"Boys seem to like the girls/ Who laugh at anything/ The ones who get undressed/ Before the second date/ Girls seem to like the boys/ Who don't appreciate/ All the money and the time that it takes/ To be fly as a mother/ Got my both eyes out for Mr. Right/ Guessing I just don't know where to find 'em/ But I hope they all come out tonight/ Hey! Where do the good boys go to hide away, hide away?/ I'm a good, good girl who needs a little company/ Looking high and low, someone let me know/ Where do the good boys go to hide away, hide away…?" – Daya, "Hide Away"_

* * *

It had been several weeks since he'd last seen Hermione, but that didn't mean Blaise hadn't spoken to her in all of that time. He'd given her a copy of McGonagall's positive reply to their explanation and their plea, as it was mostly for Hermione anyway, but he did see that the former Transfiguration professor loved the younger woman quite a lot, perhaps even seeing her as her own daughter, and extended an invitation for tea and some planning whenever either had time. Apparently several of Hermione's brides were getting married in the weeks that he hadn't seen her, as she scribbled illegibly to him one night. Two had accidentally tried to book the same reception hall on the same day, and she'd had to deal with their screeching for an entire week before she finally snapped and told them to play some Muggle game to figure out who got it and who would have to find somewhere else.

Luckily, however, Hermione had found three lovely little days where she was free from clients, and offered one of them to Blaise's family. He'd sheepishly responded that his grandmother had been quite eager and demanded that they spend all three of her days in Italy, and he hoped she didn't mind too much. She'd sent back a very sarcastic reply, consisting of "Oh, yes, I'm terribly bothered by having to spend three glorious days in beautiful Italy, surrounded by wonderful architecture, art, food and good company. Curse you, Zabini."

So Blaise was seated on a chaise lounge in the Hotel Rialto in San Marco on Thursday in the late afternoon, waiting idly for Hermione to click in from work. He spread out his arms across the back of the furniture and lounged, glancing dully over the giggling girls that would shoot him hopeful looks before turning back to their friends. He sighed, looking around at the wide, open floor plan of the lobby, looking for the work bun and greyscale outfits he'd come to associate Hermione Granger with. He wondered and hummed as he considered getting Evangeline or his mother to drag her out shopping and insist on some color in her wardrobe, as it would be a good bonding exercise, right?

He saw the young witch clicking over to him, her eyes cast on a small, grey little box in her hand as she maneuvered through the crowd, sitting down primly next to him and frowning down at the box as the giggling girls suddenly grew somber and stalked away. Blaise gave a smug smile, looking over Hermione's shoulder at what could possibly be so interesting on the box, and discovered that there was a long list that she could swish through with a flick of her finger or thumb, declaring wedding things that she needed to accomplish. He blinked at it, deciding to ask her about it later, and instead tugged on one of the loose curls before flashing her a cheeky grin when she looked up at him curiously.

"Oh, hello, Blaise," she smiled sheepishly, setting the box in her lap, dressed in a form fitting yet classy black dress and black heels. He idly wondered if she was mourning anyone, and if so whom, before listening to her continue. "It's been ages, hasn't it? I'm sorry that I haven't had much time to see you."

He waved it off casually, even though he'd complained about it several times to a very annoyed Draco – who had, promptly on schedule, threatened to burn some very important bits off of the Italian at least three times – and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, "Don't worry about it, _gattina_."

She gave a small, soft snort and tried to work the loose curls back into the bun, "Well, still, it's hard not to worry about it, considering that we are getting married soon, and I don't know quite enough about you."

He flinched before nodding, smiling easily and watching as the tension dropped from her shoulders and she took a moment to relax into him and the chaise.

"Oh," she perked up after a few beats, "I need to check in."

"Err, about that," he began before she could stand, grimacing back at her, "My grandmother wouldn't hear of you staying in a hotel, so she cancelled your reservation for you. You're going to be staying at my grandmother's instead. Don't worry, you'll have your own room, bathroom, everything, it's just…she's trying to be welcoming, I guess, and she fears that if you stay in a hotel, that you'll just eat room service and never taste her cooking."

She gave a small laugh, her brown eyes sparkling back at him, "Blaise, you've gone on and on about her cooking, it would be insulting if I didn't. But, I've no problem with all of that. Lead the way?"

He beamed, glad that the conversation had been easier than he'd expected, and stood as he offered her his arm. She stood as well, taking it, and clicked out alongside him, weaving down streets and sidewalks and breathing out a gasp when she saw the Canal Grande, with gondolas gliding effortlessly along the crystal blue water.

"We have to go over on the other side, to San Polo," Blaise explained, leading her over to a bridge that would take them to the other side of the canal. He climbed the steps, taking her wrist and leading her, before pausing at the levelled, flat part of the bridge, letting her lean against the railing and gape at the scenery. The two leaned there together for a few minutes, staying silent and just watching the surrounding area. Even though Blaise had been here just as much as he had been in England, he still found Venice to be captivating and calming each and every time. Hermione, on her part, had been awed into silence.

After she seemed to have gotten her fill of the area, he took her wrist again and led her once more, twisting and turning before he came to a dead end and dully placed his palm against the white stone. At once, the white stone moved aside, much like the bricks did in Diagon Alley, and the wall opened up to a beautiful little courtyard. Blaise nudged her inside, making sure that the wall closed back up, and guided her into the area. It had once been a red brick, four story house with arching windows and airy spaces before the sun had bleached the brick and turned it a pale yellow. Ivy vines crawled up it, overtaking a few of the window panes and snaking its way through the pillars on the balcony of the library. Blaise breathed in a big sigh, already feeling at ease, and guided Hermione into the large living space that lit up with the sunlight.

"Ciao?" Blaise called, his voice echoing slightly, "Qualcuno ha deciso di nascondersi da noi?"

They waited in silence for only a few moments before little feet were clambering down the staircase, and Blaise immediately put Hermione behind him, whispered an "explain soon", and crouched down to force Lia to stop her one-person marathon as her little lungs screamed out "Blaise!" in one continuous breath.

"Lia!" he said, scooping her up into his arms and grinning at her, "Been behaving?"

"Always!" she chirped, and Blaise gave a snort before turning and having her face Hermione.

"Lia, this is Hermione, the young lady I was telling you about," Blaise began as the toddler gaped at the young woman before her. "She's my new friend, and since she's going to be married to me, she wanted to meet everybody."

Lia absentmindedly bobbed her head along to what her big brother was saying before sitting up in his arms and looking at her sweetly, "Ciao! Benvenuti nella nostra famiglia!"

Hermione grinned back, bending just a smidge to reach her eye level, "Thank you, Lia. You're very beautiful, and I think we're going to get along just fine."

"Thank you! You're very, _very_ beautiful, and I think we're going to be great friends!" the little girl crowed, and Blaise watched as Hermione's eyes crinkled up and she nodded fervently. Merlin, this woman had a gift with children, he could tell. Perhaps he was jumping the wand a bit too early on that judgement, but who cares?

"Blaise, maybe you want to introduce her to the rest of your family, hmm?" a young woman asked, hands on her hips as she playfully glared at her younger siblings, her long, dark hair swaying as she descended the stairs. Evangeline had inherited all of her mother's traits, as did Lia, and Blaise had taken all of his father's to balance it out. Evangeline had those same full lips, the same big eyes, but wickedly prominent cheek and jaw bones that made her seem fierce and intimidating. He knew that in time they would grow softer with age, just as they had with their mother, but for now they grabbed positive attention and granted her the spotlight after a single glance.

"Hello, you must be Evangeline," Hermione said, extending her hand and smiling kindly to her future sister-in-law. "Blaise has spoken so much about you, I can't help but feel like I'm meeting a legend."

Evangeline had glared at Daphne the entire time of their first meeting, and had only granted the girl a sweet smile when the blonde stated that she was departing. However, Blaise couldn't help but notice his sister's genuine grin as she tossed her hand into Hermione's, sliding the other hand into the pocket of the paint splattered jeans.

"You feel like you're meeting one? Imagine how I feel," the older woman laughed, causing the brunette to blush. "We're very pleased to meet you, Hermione, welcome to our home and our family. Lia isn't quite aware that not everyone is bilingual as she is, and Blaise often forgets the need to translate, so if anything is confusing you, don't hesitate to ask."

"Thank you, I'm afraid that Latin alone can only get me so far," she easily joked before the two grand and graceful women swept in from the staircase.

His mother stepped forward first, her head tilted as she appraised Hermione before giving her a soft smile, offering her hand for a handshake as well, "It's nice to finally meet you, Hermione. Thank you for taking time off of your busy schedule to meet us."

"Thank you for having me, Mrs. Zabini, it's beautiful here," she answered before Blaise's mother intervened.

"Call me 'Simone,'" she said with a gleaming grin. Daphne had never been permitted to call her as such, and his mother had thought of the whiny girl as their saving grace.

"Yes, ma'am," Hermione nodded before Simone stepped aside and allowed Damiana to step forward to the girl. Her skin was as dark as Blaise's, her lips thinner than her daughter-in-law's, but her eyes a deep and clear blue that matched the canal outside her front door. Although she was getting on in age, her back never drooped, and wrinkles were quaint and lovely on her skin. Her silver hair had been swept up and pinned, and her wedding ring still shone proudly in the sunlight.

Damiana had not spoken a word to Daphne during their entire visit. She hadn't even gone within three feet of the girl. So Blaise, not really knowing what to expect, found himself reeling when Damiana placed her thin, delicate hands on Hermione's shoulders and stared deeply into her eyes before breaking into a smile.

"Thank you, Hermione Granger," she said in heavily accented English, "You are brave."

Hermione, at a loss for words, simply gave a warm smile back, "Thank you for having me."

"Thanks for taking all of this like a champ," Evangeline spoke up, settling a hand on her grandmother's back and smiling kindly to Hermione. "We know this must be sending you for a whirlwind, especially since you didn't actually sign the contract."

"It is typical for the actual couple to sign their own contracts," Simone insisted before giving a harsh glare, "Not having some _spell_ do it for them against their wills."

"But, sometimes those signing are pressured by their families to uphold tradition and make them proud," Blaise offered before he saw the question burning in Hermione's eyes, just as everyone older than five seemed to notice. For the time being, it was settled away for later as they moved on to a tour of the house.

Hermione was floored by the amount of books in the library, and he could already tell that she had a personal mission to read every single one of them. They wound themselves around, showing off Evangeline's studio up on the fourth floor as his older sister ripped off some drapes to reveal pieces to the brunette and ask for her opinion. Hermione was eager to tell her that they were amazing, and that she would pass along Evangeline's card to anyone she could think of that could use a painting for their homes or places of business, even asking if she would mind doing one for her parents for a Christmas present. This had earned the Gryffindor a massive hug before Evangeline bounced off to a corner to grab a notebook for ideas.

They came to a stop once they wound back down to the third floor, where most of the bedrooms were, and showed Hermione to hers before they seemed to notice a lack of bags. That was when the brunette sheepishly pulled out her wand and a small coin purse from a secret pocket in her dress, tapping it and having a black box float out of it before growing into small suitcase, practical for three days' use. She settled the coin purse on the aged white vanity before setting the suitcase neatly next to the bed.

"It's almost time for dinner," Damiana announced, causing the Zabinis to immediately head downstairs and towards the kitchens. The eldest woman stood before the brunette, smiling happily at her and walking with her behind the others. "I love having my family cook with me, or at the very least keep me company while I cook. A few, like Simone, who bakes better than she cooks, simply sit there and talk to me. Blaise and Evangeline help me cook, Evangeline more since she lives here and mainly works here. My husband, Piero, started the tradition and even cooked with me and my son, Niccolo, grew up cooking with me. I would love if you would keep me company while we cook, Hermione."

Hermione blinked, touched at the amount of love she was witnessing from the Zabinis, before nodding eagerly. "My dad is the one who cooks, and I would always help ever since I was deemed old enough to get near a fire or hold a knife. Half of the time I would do my homework with him while he cooked."

Damiana smiled warmly, patting the young woman's arm, as they reached the last step and began their way to the kitchen. "Food brings the love, and is always made best when done with love."

Hermione nodded her agreement, walking into the kitchen and finding Blaise, standing up on a counter and digging through a cabinet, calling out to his sisters below him.

"What are we making again and does it need flat noodles?" he asked dully, nudging things around on the top shelf.

"No, we're making cheese tortellini with alfredo sauce, now get the flour, Mama's getting the eggs and milk," Evangeline stated with a huff, hands on her hips and frowning up at her brother. Lia, seeing this, copied her stance and huffed as well, sending little strands of black hair up into the air.

"Why don't you just use your wand, Blaise?" Hermione questioned, finding this behavior odd from a Pureblood family. Even the Weasley matriarch Accio'd ingredients to her when needed. At this thought, Hermione blanched and turned her attention back to the Zabinis.

Blaise chuckled, amused with the witch, and grinned down at her as he passed his sister the flour, "Grandmother says that magic ruins the food."

"The Muggles in town do not use magic to make such fantastic food, so neither do I," Damiana insisted, boiling the water on the stove as Hermione awkwardly tried to find a space to remain out of the way. Blaise, seeing her distress, took her by her elbow and gently led her to the bar that overlooked the countertops and the stovetops, assisting her into a tall bar stool and taking the one next to her. Simone swept in, depositing the milk, eggs and cheese onto the counter top before taking the spot next to Hermione and giving the woman a smile.

"So, Hermione, what do your parents do for a living?" Simone asked as Evangeline and Damiana took to preparing the food.

"Oh, they're dentists, they fix and clean Muggles' teeth," Hermione explained, watching in fascination as their hands worked and shaped the tortellini before stuffing the cheese inside. Blaise chuckled back at her, watching how awed she looked and remembering his earliest memory of his grandmother cooking and having a similar look on his face.

"Oh, you are Muggleborn, aren't you?" Damiana asked as she worked, "Would you like to have a Muggle wedding or a wizarding one?"

"Oh, well, I haven't thought of that," Hermione paused, and Blaise hummed as he leaned towards the brunette, propping his head up by his arm.

"We do need to talk about all of that, don't we?" he frowned as she pulled a face. "We've only got the location and catering settled out, but talking about it is too much like work for you, isn't it?"

"Then we won't talk about any of that tonight," Simone insisted before sighing, "I remember how stressful planning a wedding can be. Should you need any help, however, I would be happy to do so."

"Yeah, Mama has probably made marriage a classified sport by now," Evangeline teased, and Damiana gently slapped at her granddaughter's hand.

"Respect your mother," she insisted, and the young woman sighed and complied and tried to fix the tortellini that had been squished by the slapping. Blaise chuckled at his family, and in no time everything was cooked and brought to the table.

Blaise had grown up with rich food daily, but Hermione was used to English dining and considered Italian food to be some special occasion. So, rather than digging into his own plate right away, he carefully watched as Hermione speared a tortellini and gently took it into her mouth, her eyes widening as she chewed. She made eye contact with Blaise, and he grinned back at her before waggling his eyebrows at her.

"This is amazing, Mrs. Zabini, I've never had anything like it," Hermione admitted, and Blaise looked up to find that everyone had caught his little display of affection for Hermione. Even he had acted differently when Daphne had first visited his grandmother's home, and had never given such a warm disposition to the cold Slytherin girl. Hermione, it seemed, brought it out in the Zabinis, and seemed to bring it out especially in Blaise.

"Thank you, _tesorino_ , I am glad you like it," Damiana smiled softly, and Blaise, Evangeline and their mother all shared surprised glances before relaxing and smiling in Hermione's direction as she fawned over how amazing it was, unaware of the big gesture that had just taken place before her.

"So, Hermione, how's about we go out shopping tomorrow, explore Italy a bit, and then hit up the beach?" Evangeline asked.

"That sounds like a dream come true," the brunette laughed, "I feel like I've fallen asleep at my desk again."

"Well, honey, when you wake up tomorrow you won't have a killer pain in your neck," Evangeline chuckled before brightening, "Hey, there's an idea – how's about a painting of you at the beach for your parents, hmm? At sunset, that'd do wonders on your skin tone. I'm gonna get you nice and tan!"

"Oh no, I'm English, I don't tan," Hermione explained with a small laugh.

"Oh, tell me about it," Simone chuckled, "First time I spent a weekend with Niccolo, Damiana and Piero at the beach, and somehow ended up tinged with pink. Apparently having Italian parents was not a decent excuse for the sun."

"I remember that," Damiana laughed airily, "Niccolo was so afraid he'd damaged you somehow by having you out in the sun too much, worried he'd ruined everything with you. 'I've ruined it all, Mama, she's never going to want to be with me ever again!' 'Niccolo, _cucciolo_ , it is just a simple sun burn, and it is not your fault.' 'She'll blame me and there goes your hope for grandchildren!'" She scoffed softly, eyeing her daughter-in-law with a smile, "He always was dramatic when it came to you, Simone."

"Didn't Dad freak out when you told him you were pregnant with me?" Evangeline questioned with an easy grin, twirling her fork around in the alfredo sauce. "Wouldn't say anything for over an hour, right?"

"He lost it completely when I told him about Blaise, too," Simone chuckled, remembering it fondly as she tangled a finger in Lia's hair. "' _Another one, Simone?!_ I'm not sure I know what to do with the first one yet!'"

The two siblings laughed, and Hermione just sat there and enjoyed the warmth emanating off of the family. Blaise noticed how eagerly she listened to their stories, and how softly she smiled as she pictured every bit of it. Every story that was told was something to do about Blaise's father or Blaise himself in some way, and he was floored again and again by just how much love his family had for him, and even his late father. He'd seen pictures of him, had seen his smile and how he had laughed, but could not remember how his voice sounded or how it felt to be wrapped up in his arms before the Tickle Monster attacked. But he never doubted his father's love, for any of them in the room, even Lia, who was not even his, he would still love for the small fact that she was Simone's child.

He wondered what his father would think of Hermione. If he would be awed by her wit or her bravery first? Or would he spend the entire dinner nudging at Blaise and grinning conspiratorially at him and egging him on to make a move? Or would he have encouraged his son to follow his heart when he wrote to home in his first year about the smart girl with hair like a cloud that he really did like, and he would have been bringing Hermione to Italy for years now, and gotten her sunburned during a summer and lamented to his laughing parents that his relationship was all over and that they would never have grandchildren from him..?

Dinner and dishes were done, and Lia had been bathed and put to bed before the adults decided to head to sleep as well to get a head start on tomorrow. Blaise had walked Hermione to her room, informing her that he really was glad that she liked it here, and with drooping eyes and a soft smile, she informed him that she was really glad his family liked having her here. They quickly bid goodnight, as a long day at work and an evening of good food was quickly taking Hermione down, and Blaise walked alone to his room, feeling quite relaxed. He took a quick shower, tugging on a t-shirt and light pajama pants before pulling open the tall, narrow windows and breathing in the air. He slipped into bed and was out as soon as his head hit the pillow.

Until he heard screaming. He was up and running to the sound before he was fully awake and aware as to why he was running. But he already knew, and immediately headed for Hermione's door. He announced that he was coming in before unlocking it and slipping in and to her side, seeing Evangeline come flying down the stairs and his mother and grandmother making their way down the hall, all with wands while Blaise had neglected to bring his own.

Hermione was tangled up in the sheets, panting and breathing heavily and trying to get free of them as she screamed and shouted that she had simply found something, and please don't hurt her, please don't. Simone, the first to enter after Blaise, vanished the sheets as her son strode toward the girl, quickly knocking her wand off of the nightstand and onto the floor as he sat on the mattress.

"Hermione? Hermione, I need you to wake up and listen to me, okay?" he asked, trying to be loud and calming at the same time. "You're having a nightmare, you're in Italy with my family, and you're fine. You're okay, Hermione, but you need to wake up."

Hermione lurched upright, fists swinging, but Blaise quickly and expertly caught them. He silently thanked Draco for making him take a Keeper position when they played Quidditch, as he was fairly sure that was the only reason he wasn't knocked out cold. But for now, he watched as Hermione gained some recognition into her eyes, staring worriedly and blankly at his face before her chest heaved again.

"She was here, Blaise, she was – she was torturing me again," she explained, still half out of it as she pulled her hands from his gentle grasp and worried her fingers against the fabric of his shirt, seeming to tug at his shirt with just her fingers before rethinking her decision and then doing it all over again. "She was…she was here. Is Lia alright?" Blaise blinked at the question, surprised that she only seemed to be half aware of everything that was going on, like her nightmare had mixed with her reality at this point.

"I checked on her before I came here, dear," Simone announced softly, and Hermione blinked as she turned her head and looked to the three Zabini women. "She's alright, and perfectly fine."

"Is there anything you need?" Evangeline and Damiana asked, and neither seemed startled by the synchronization.

"Do we have any Dreamless Sleep?" Blaise asked, stroking her wild, tangled hair as she broke down into quiet, tired sobs against him. He rubbed her back with his other hand, holding her gently in case she decided she wanted to be let go of.

The two grimaced and exchanged glances, and Blaise sighed before nodding.

"I'll stay with her, and I'll keep the room silenced," he announced before tilting his head and looking to his sister. "Can you go grab my wand from my room?" The three gaped and blinked at him before nodding, and they all dispersed. Evangeline quickly returned, handing him his wand as he had sheets reappear and began to put the silencing charms on the room.

"You knew what she needed, didn't you?" Evangeline whispered as Hermione calmed down against her brother, having apparently exhausted herself with her tears. "You didn't even grab your wand. You didn't know if there actually was someone in here."

"I'll tell you about it later, but I kind of figured this was what it was," he shrugged, "Goodnight, Evangeline."

She took the cue and nodded, shutting the door behind her as Blaise pulled the Brightest Witch of Their Age up into his lap and had her rest her head on his shoulder. He swiftly checked her heartrate before settling her back into bed, happily noting that she slept on the right side while he slept on the left. As he was beginning to get up and deposit himself in the floor, she slid her fingers into his hand and looked up at him with shiny, yet clear eyes.

"Can you stay…please?" she asked, probably worried about how childish she sounded, or how foolish she seemed.

"Where do you want me?" he asked calmly, giving her a soft smile to let her know that he still respected her and thought of her as the strong witch he always knew she was. Well, that what he wanted to convey in that smile, he wasn't really sure if she caught the meaning.

She bit her lower lip and lowered her eyes, and even though it was dark, Blaise could see the lightest of blushes on her cheeks before he chuckled and laid down next to her, facing her and giving her a grin as he pulled the blankets up and around them. "Really, Hermione, there are easier ways to ask me into bed. No need to be embarrassed."

She scoffed and gave him a small grin, but she got that message loud and clear, and settled into the pillow and closed her eyes. He did the same, watching her for a moment before slipping his hand over hers, watching her relax further before he finally shut his eyes and went to sleep next to her.

Blaise slept more soundly than he had ever thought could be possible, and Hermione did the same.

* * *

 **Sorry that this chapter took so long, guys! Between the beginning author's note and now, I've had finals, moved out of my dorm and back home, and have been helping to clean house, decorate house, and dig around in the backyard for water piping and whatnot. It's been…exhausting, to say the least, and I do miss aspects of my dorm that I can't do at home. Namely having my boyfriend in there and having the best fucking naps ever when he was there. I dunno, there's just something really calming about having somebody else there that you care and trust about, especially after you've cried three times in one hour over three separate things.**

 **College is soooo fuuuuun. /sarcasm/**

 **Please review, as I enjoy them greatly and would love to have them as a Christmas present!**


	8. Never Makes Sense to Me at All

**Hey guys, sorry that I'm not too involved to think up a snazzy beginning author's note right now, so boo :p**

 **Anyways, enjoy the chapter! And I just want to say a quick thank you to everyone who reviewed last chapter and said that X/Y/Z character was warm and that was why they and A/B/C clicked! That's exactly what I was going for and I'm so glad that's what everyone picked up on!**

 _"And I would give all this and heaven too/ I would give it all if only for a moment/ That I could just understand the meaning of the word you see/ 'Cause I've been scrawling it forever but it never makes sense to me at all/ And it talks to me in tiptoes/ And it sings to me inside/ It cries out in the darkest night and breaks in the morning light…" – Florence + the Machine, "All This and Heaven Too"_

* * *

Blaise slept with his left arm numb for the entire night. It was a strange yet wonderful feeling, as although it felt like the thing had simply vanished he knew it was still attached and underneath a very lovely young woman who needed him. It was like an entirely different kind of magic that he hadn't even known had existed. Hermione had slept soundly for the rest of the night, even snuggling closer to Blaise's chest and giving a few peaceful sighs in her sleep. Suffice it to say that Blaise's cold, cold Slytherin heart grew three sizes, and then entirely melted every time she did that.

When morning came, and Hermione gained enough consciousness to roll away and curl in on herself, Blaise regained the feeling in his left arm along with a certain chill to his heart. To remedy this, he wrapped the right, non-tingling arm around her waist and dragged her into his chest to bury his face deeply into her hair. He felt her shoulders tense, and patiently waited for her to remember last night's occurrences. Sure enough, she was soon clearing her throat and shifting against him.

"I, err, should explain last night, shouldn't I?" she questioned in lieu of a "good morning" or a "thank you, Blaise, you sexy thing you."

"Only if you want to," he murmured sleepily, his voice deeper and scruffier as he sighed again and wiggled his face deeper into the wild, tangled curls. Did she always smell like sunshine, or was it her soap? Shampoo? Whatever it was, he hoped she never ran out of the stuff.

"During the war…Harry, Ron and I were on the run and hunting Horcruxes," she began, and he felt her fiddling with the hem on the sheets. "Snatchers captured us and took us to…to Malfoy Manor…where Bellatrix – "

"Hermione," Blaise interrupted softly, "You can leave it there, and I'll understand. Also, I kind of heard about it from Draco, like…pfft…four years ago? Sounds about right. Anyway, you don't need to give me the full details until you want to and are absolutely ready."

She instantly relaxed, and wiggled herself around to face him, a curious expression on her face. Blaise countered it with one of his own, adding in a little bit of sleepiness to spice things up. She, on the other hand, looked entirely awake and ready to take on the day. Oh Merlin, she was a morning person, wasn't she? How dreadful. Maybe the marriage wouldn't work after all.

"How are you so…thoughtful?" she asked, staring up and into his eyes. "I don't even need to say something, and you can just automatically tell."

"Well, I would like to say that it's because I know you extremely well, but we both know that's a huge lie," he gave a grin as he flipped onto his back, turning his head to face her as he stretched his arms above him. "I just think about how I would feel if I had to do whatever you're doing, and how I could help you from being uncomfortable or whatever it is."

"And do you think I'm uncomfortable now?" she questioned, propping her head up and looking at him.

"Hmm…" he studied her carefully for a few moments before arching a brow, "No, actually, you aren't. Alright, you little minx, who have you been hopping into beds with?"

She chuckled, laying back down and staring at the ceiling with him, "No one, actually. I just find myself oddly comfortable around you, Blaise. I trust you, for some strange reason."

"Well, whatever reason, I'm glad," he yawned, curling back up underneath the duvet, "After all, we'll be right back here in a few months."

Hermione groaned and covered her head with the duvet, rudely tugging some of the material away from him to do so. "I hate it! I hate that it's my job to do it! I don't want to think about it like it's my life!"

"You could have my mum to do it, she'd have kittens if you asked," he hummed, subtly trying to sneak more and more fabric back to himself.

"But that's just the thing, that'd be rubbish advertising if I didn't plan my _own_ wedding," she huffed, bushy curls reappearing along with a cute little scowl. "I just want it done. Is that too much to ask?"

"Could elope," Blaise suggested, waggling his eyebrows at her before donning a sing-song voice, "Wouldn't have to do wo-ork!"

She snorted, dragging her palms across her face, "Too late, I've booked things with McGonagall and my parents, and I've already notified a dress shoppe to be prepared for my arrival on a Saturday."

"Want me to go with you to it?" he asked softly.

"No!" she frowned at him as he looked at her in surprise, "It's bad luck for the groom to see the dress before the wedding day." At his blank stare, she sheepishly amended, "Muggle superstition."

"Okay, so who all will go with you?" he asked with a grin.

"Oh…Luna, Ginny, my mother…perhaps your family as well," she hummed in thought, and he blinked at how easily his family was included. "And then we could also pick out bridesmaid dresses, and a flower girl dress for Lia…tell me, would your sister be opposed to being a bridesmaid?"

His mouth dropped open and he gaped at her before pouncing, wrapping them both up in the duvet and hugging her tightly, "Thank the heavens for you, Hermione Granger! Oh, thank you, Merlin, for trading the naggy shrew out for this magnificent bookworm!"

Hermione cracked up, giggling as he wiggled in closer and closer for body heat and that sunshine smell, "Blaise, stop being silly! I was actually asking!"

"I know! And that's the brilliant part!" he crowed, finally settling his chin on her shoulder and sighing. "Evangeline would love it, and Lia would adore you for life if she were flower girl."

"Oh, well, I was thinking of having three flower girls." At this, Blaise lifted his head and blinked owlishly at her before she explained. "Bill and Fleur Weasley have two little girls, Victoire and Dominique. They'd be heartbroken if they weren't flower girls as well, and I find it rude if Lia weren't flower girl in her own brother's wedding. And Teddy Lupin, Professor Lupin's son, I was thinking of him as ring bearer, if that's alright?"

"It all sounds perfect," he admitted, giving her a dazzling grin that made her blush a deep crimson.

During breakfast Hermione had tried to awkwardly give an explanation to Evangeline, Simone and Damiana about last night and had been promptly shot down and informed that it was her business, and she didn't need to go about sharing it until she was absolutely comfortable in doing so. He could tell that Hermione was warmed as to how amazing his family was, and beamed back at her before giving his attention back to Lia as she tried to feed him scrambled eggs and not drop it in the floor.

Over breakfast, it was decided that Evangeline and Simone would go clothes shopping with Hermione early in the day, before the tourists got out and about, and Blaise would stay at how to help Damiana with a few things while also spend time with Lia, who particularly hated early morning shopping trips, especially when they did not involve toys.

Once the three women were off and Lia was sufficiently distracted, Blaise found himself being stared down by his grandmother. This went on for a few minutes, Blaise being too scared to ask what it was all about, before Damiana seemed to determine something with a nod of her head, and beckoned Blaise to follow her. They traipsed their way up to her bedroom, which was the largest bedroom in the house. She stepped from the sitting area and into her closet area, pulling out a few worn, wooden boxes with tiny useless latches and setting them on the bed.

"Pick one," she insisted, and once Blaise gave her a questioning look she sighed, rolled her eyes, and began to lift the lids to each box.

There were rows upon rows of rings. Some were large and grandeur, others were simple yet probably still expensive. Once the three boxes were opened for him to see, Damiana even wiggled her ring off of her finger and settled it on the lid of one.

"Pick a ring for that girl, Blaise," she demanded, and he gaped openly at her. "Arranged marriage or not, she deserves a ring. And, if yesterday was anything to go by, you are in love with her already. If not, you're close. Pick out a ring."

"I…are these all the rings that have ever been in the family?" he questioned, looking at all of them.

"All in the Zabini, anyway," she waved her hand idly, "My maiden name carried along thousands of rings to choose from. Which are all in my vault, if you want to look at those."

Blaise picked up his grandmother's ring, gently pushing it back onto her proper finger, and placed her hand in both of his. He gave the strong-willed woman in front of him a soft smile, and kissed her on the cheek. "Thank you for accepting her, Grandmother. But, Hermione's…too special. I want to give her a ring that's just as unique as she is, and I want it to be entirely hers." He lifted her hand and gave her a pointed stare, "Just like _this_ is entirely yours."

She gave her grandson a warm smile and kissed him on the cheek, combing her fingers through his hair and finding so much of her lost son in him. "When do you plan on shopping? Lia and I would be happy to accompany you, or I would be happy to watch her while you went to find something for her."

He gave an incredulous laugh, shutting the lids on the boxes and putting them away, "Do you want this done today? Why are you so suddenly adamant about me putting a ring on her finger?"

"The lady is too beautiful to go wandering around Italy without a ring," she quipped easily, and watched in amusement as Blaise froze and gaped at her.

"Oh my Merlin, Grandmother, I have to go find one _today_ ," he urged, watching her chuckle at him, "Can you watch - ?"

"Yes, go, and go to Guillermo's first, I told him to be awaiting you," she waved him off.

He backpedaled, looking at her curiously, "When did you do this?"

"Last night, after dinner," she sniffed indignantly before shooing him away, "Go! Now! And be sure you give it to her in some romantic setting! Start off the chain of right things in all of this mess with _that ring_!"

And so Blaise nodded, marching down the staircase, patting Lia on the head on his way out, and marched along the streets of Wizarding Italy until he found Guillermo's Jewelry Shop. Guillermo was an old, old family friend, and had seen many young wizards come to find the perfect ring for their sweetie. He was as important in these wizards' lives as Ollivander, and he took immense pride in what he did. He was a tanned, portly man with a big grin and tiny little eyes hidden under his bushy eyebrows, but he crafted the most spectacular engagement and wedding rings.

"Blaise! Your grandmother warned me you might be coming!" he cheered, and Blaise let out a sigh of relief. "Now, what were you looking to find? Big and fancy or pretty and simple?"

Oh, now he actually had to make a decision. He wanted to find one that Hermione would fall in love with and want to wear day after day, so he doubted a big, flashy ring would impress her much. He also didn't want it to be simple, as he _did_ want to show her that he cared about impressing her. Somewhere in between, hopefully.

So he spent three hours at Guillermo's, the two working hard to discover what to find for her. Guillermo brought plenty of example rings, trying to find a happy medium. While he was worried that he was bothering and frustrating the older man, he was pleased to find that he considered it a wonderful challenge.

"Well, there you go, Blaise," he settled the little black box into his hand. "I'll owl you the wedding band a week before the wedding, alright?"

"That sounds great, thank you so much, Guillermo," he sighed, parking the box into his pocket. "How much do I owe you?"

"Oh, no-no-no," he frowned, hands on his rotund waist. "Zabinis don't pay here. Your grandmother settled me with my wife, and I made her ring for free, just like I'll do for any Zabini man or woman. By the way – is your sister seeing anyone?"

Blaise laughed, smoothing his hair down, "Not that I know of, and you've got quite a few years to wait for Lia."

"Ahh, she'll be my son's project then," he grinned, patting his chest heartily, "He's taking over the business. Happily, actually. Couldn't be prouder!"

"That's wonderful, Guillermo. Thank you again, but I think I need to be heading back to meet up with her and my family," he shook the man's hand, and after a promise of telling him how the proposal went, cheerily walked back to his grandmother's house, patting the lump in his pocket every now and again.

"Blaise! What took you so long?" Evangeline greeted with a huff and a glare, crossing her arms over her chest and frowning at him. The effect was marginally ruined due to the fluorescent pink bikini she had on and the ridiculous orange flip-flops adorning her feet, so he only quirked an eyebrow at her and settled his hands in his pockets, thumb brushing against the black velvet of the box. "I was elected to wait here for you! Everyone else is down at the beach, come on!"

He sighed and nodded, following her out and slipping through every back way and alley that the two knew from their childhood. There was a small Wizarding beach with wards to bounce Muggles off and away, just a little piece of sand for the community to share. He easily found his family, as Simone was nestled in the sand with Lia and helping her to build a sandcastle, Damiana in a lounge chair and watching the two work and giving encouragements. Evangeline quickly found some friends, and bustled over to gossip in loud, giggly Italian.

"Hello," Blaise said to his mother as he began unbuttoning his white shirt and rolling the cuffs up, causing the three nestled there to look up and squint from the sun directly behind him. "How was shopping?"

Simone, wearing a simple and modest one piece with a woven cover up, picked up her hand to shield her eyes. "What is with that girl of yours? Everything she picked up was black, grey and very seldom was it white." He chuckled, grinning down at them as Damiana conjured sunglasses and handed them to her daughter-in-law. Simone flashed her a grateful smile and settled them on to look up at her son. "Anyway, Evangeline and I helped get some color into her wardrobe, or at the very least _some_ white." She lowered the glasses a bit, settling a very Slytherin-smirk on her face. "And where have _you_ been, my son?"

He ignored the question and settled with a grin instead, "Where is Hermione, anyway?"

Simone waved to a lone figure on the beach, and he gave her a grateful nod before moving to it. He stumbled once he caught sight of Hermione in a white bikini, the bottoms attempting to be shorts, but still yet. He gulped a few times, glared at Evangeline and her snickering friends, and moved to her side as she settled her face against the sunlight and let the wind ripple through her hair.

"I thought you don't tan?" he asked, sitting down beside her and propping himself up by his arms behind him, like she was doing.

"I burn and then I tan," she answered with a peaceful sigh, "My summer before fourth year in France was dreadful, but I got a wicked tan out of it."

He chuckled, sighing with her and staring out at the waves alongside her. "You look very nice, by the way."

"Thank you," she gave a smug little grin, "This was actually the most modest bathing suit I could find, especially compared to the ones your sister tried to get for me." She sat up straighter and frowned at him, "Did you know your family insisted on paying for everything for me?"

"No, I didn't, but I'd be peeved if they didn't," he said, seeing her glare and then feeling the need to explain. "Pureblood custom. If your fiance's family doesn't pay for something they suggested or invited you to, it means they don't like you. So, they like you, and you shouldn't feel offended by it. They probably didn't even think twice about it."

She relaxed a bit, wiggling her toes into the sand and sighing again. He took this opportunity to glance over her, noticing scars littering her body, but then getting distracted by her body itself. He swallowed noisily, fiddled with his shirt collar before deciding that the direct sunlight at noon was hot enough, and pulled the shirt off with one swift motion. He caught Hermione glancing over at him and decided not to say anything, although he was sure that he would get a sweet blush out of her.

"It's beautiful here," she sighed wistfully, dropping onto her elbows and tilting her head back, "I can't believe you practically grew up here."

"I know," he stated smugly, earning a snort from her. "It's really like it popped out of a fairytale, isn't it?"

"I wouldn't say fairytale as much as a chick flick, but yeah," she agreed before noticing his confused stare. She chuckled, sitting up again and motioning with her hands. "Muggles have movies, right? They're kind of like plays, and each movie is a moving picture with sounds. They tell a story. They are also referred to as 'flicks' by some, and a story that is full of cheesy romance is referred to a 'chick flick.' Make sense?"

"Sort of," he nodded along slowly, "What's your favorite 'chick flick'?" He tried the term out slowly, and was rewarding with a small grin before she pouted.

"I'm not into many chick flicks, but I remember seeing one three times because of my mother, aunt and cousin wanting me to see it in theatres with each of them. What was it again..?" she murmured to herself before snorting and giving a grin, " _When in Rome._ "

He chuckled, "Speaking of which, we're going to go sight-seeing tomorrow. Rome, Sicily, the countryside, Verona – which I think you'll love."

"Verona?" she echoed with a massive grin.

"Yup," he grinned back, popping the 'p,' "But for today, we're going out to eat an early dinner together and then we'll be free to go do whatever. However, you will need me as your chaperone. The boys and men of Italy are not to be trusted with such a pretty woman in their midst."

"Oh, darn," she said monotonously, with the smallest of blushes, before snorting, "I'd be very alright with just coming back to the beach, if that's alright with you?"

"Sounds perfect," he smiled back.

After a few more hours of playing in the sand with Lia and glaring at a smirking Evangeline, Blaise and Hermione were surprised when his family insisted on going out to eat together, and that they would see them either tonight or in the morning. Once the group had split apart and Hermione had settled into a light purple sleeveless dress that went over her bikini and some sandals, they walked along the canals and talked about anything and everything they could think of. Blaise introduced Hermione to a few people that he knew either himself or through his grandmother, and the two finally settled on eating at a restaurant with a balcony that overlooked a canal. Hermione watched the people riding the gondolas with a small smile, shaking her head and muttering how silly it seemed as Blaise watched her and grinned. They ate light and talked eagerly about anything and everything, staring off with simple things before coming around to the bigger things.

"Do the Weasleys know yet?" Blaise asked quietly, and Hermione sighed and frowned as she rubbed the spot between her eyebrows as the skin crinkled there.

"I've been waiting until I go to the next Weasley family dinner, and with work I hadn't had time to go to one," she answered as she idly pushed around a tomato on her plate. Apparently she hated them in salads, so Blaise quietly speared it and popped it into his own mouth with a smile, happy to see her grin back at him. "I was wondering the best way to do it, and I was wondering…if you would like to come with me?"

He blinked, settling down his fork and reaching across the table to grasp her hand, "Hermione, I would love to come, but…I'm worried about what they'll think of me. I wasn't a Death Eater, no, but I was a Slytherin, and some seem to think those things are one and the same. I don't want an upstart as soon as we walk through the door, and I certainly don't want to run the risk of your friends thinking…"

"Thinking..?" she echoed, leaning closer to him and watching as his tongue darted out to lick his lips nervously.

"I don't want your friends to get angry at you because of me, thinking that you've switched sides and are now going to go around harping about You-Know-Who," he sighed, looking up at her with big, sad eyes.

"Oh, Blaise," she squeezed his hand, "You're not a Death Eater, and I will vouch for that forever. There's nothing wrong with being a Slytherin, and it's high time the Weasleys learn that. If any of them get angry at you, I'll get angry right back. You're important to me, Blaise, and you don't deserve to have such negativity from my friends. Hell, even Draco Malfoy tolerates me now. If they don't behave, I can throw that in their face, along with not being invited to the wedding." At his raised eyebrows, she rolled her eyes and gave a grin, "Blaise, really. It's your wedding too, and you don't deserve to be uncomfortable or left out because of their bad manners."

"Oh sweet Merlin, you're perfect," he sighed, enjoying her bell-like laugh after that.

The two ate and chatted idly, enjoying the company and settling out when the both of them could find time to go to the Burrow. Blaise paid for the bill while Hermione covered the tip, and they walked back to the beach closer together and laughed at each other's stories and jokes. Once back at the nearly deserted beach, Hermione shed her shoes and dress and dropped right back onto the sand, Blaise seating himself next to her, each with an arm behind each other's back.

He watched as Hermione stared contentedly out over the sunset on the ocean, marveling the deep orange light it cast upon her and the pink and purple sky behind her, and thought it was as good a time as any to do this.

"Hermione," he called, and nearly swore when she turned that lovely smile onto him. "I know that things with us are kind of backward and weird, but I still want to do somethings properly." At her arched eyebrow, he gave a small and readjusted to balance on one knee, take the box out of his pocket, and flick it open to her. Her eyes widened and she gaped back at him, still looking extremely lovely to him. "Hermione, would you please accept this ring?"

She gave a small laugh, blushing furiously and nodding, and Blaise happily reclaimed his position next to her and settled the ring onto her finger. It was silver, with a thin band that looked like dozens of strands weaving together into delicate designs, small diamonds nestled in together as the ring thickened on the top and gave a nice shape to the whole thing. Hermione admired it with something akin to awe before leaning against him and kissing his cheek.

"Thank you, Blaise," she whispered to him, her thick eyelashes unknowingly batting back at him. "It's lovely. _You're_ lovely."

"Oh, darling," he sighed, stretching a grin out for her, "I'm not a mirror."

She chuckled, still leaning into him, and the two stared out at the sunset together as the waves crashed against the shoreline and the pinks and purples gave way to the dark blue and little pinpricks of silver stars.

* * *

 **Phew! That one took too long to write too! I hate how, one way or another, something always gets in the way of me being able to write. Maybe now that I'm living at home, I can find more time.**

 **Also! I'm turning nineteen on December 31st, and for some reason I'm strangely excited! It's very doubtful I'll be able to update again before then, which is why I'm letting you know now because I'm just so! Fucking! Excited! Aah!**

 **Please leave a review, you little darlings you! And I'll see you next chapter! *Markiplier voice* Bye-bye~!**


	9. You and I

**So after a strange birthday where all but one guest was unable to make it, and ended up having to leave later in the night anyway, I am here to present the newest chapter. I'm afraid I've got a rough cold, so forgive me if I'm…well, if this chapter sounds different than all the rest.**

 _"Oh, let's get rich and buy our parents homes/ In the south of France/ Let's get rich/ And give everybody nice sweaters/ And teach them how to dance/ Let's get rich/ And build a house on a mountain/ Making everybody look like ants/ Way up there, you and I/ You and I…" – Ingrid Michaelson, "You and I"_

* * *

They'd roamed all over most of Italy that day, and it had been glorious. Hermione had been an eager and attentive student, and the tour guides or family friends had simply eaten it up and adored her. She asked as many questions as possible about the Colosseum, much to the annoyance of the Muggles in their tour group. She'd taken her time at the museums, had lovingly read every plaque that crossed her path and would happily whisper interesting tidbits to Blaise, as if he hadn't already seen them and committed them all to memory. She'd asked Giovanna, his mother's friend and owner of a beautiful vineyard, which grapes achieved which flavors and which were her favorite. She'd asked Tom, a friend of his grandfather who jokingly flirted with all the Zabini girls, how his restaurant was doing and told him how amazing the food was and that she'd be happy to recommend the place to _the_ Harry Potter himself.

And now she was perched on a beautiful hillside, happily watching the sunset and enjoying the light breeze, and Blaise couldn't help but be entirely infatuated with her.

After he'd given her the ring and they'd stayed on the beach until the stars fully came out and the chill seeped into them, quietly making their way through a subdued streets and walking into the house. Blaise accompanied her to her door before stopping and turning to look at her.

"Do you need me tonight?" he'd asked, looking at her gently, and she bit her lip before ducking her head in to the room then shaking her head.

"Damiana or Simone left a potion for me," she'd answered, and he gave a light smile – trying not to be too disappointed that he wouldn't be curled up in bed with her again – before taking her hand, kissing it gently, silently admired how the ring glimmered in the moonlight, then took his leave and went to his own lonely bed.

Another successful day, with only one full one left to go, he collapsed on the blanket beside her and heaved a peaceful sigh that drew her out of her own relaxation to turn to him.

"Something on your mind?' she questioned, and he shook his head as he grinned lazily up at her and tugged on a curl.

"Just enjoying the view," he grinned wider for her, and she flushed before snorting and giving her own grin.

"I could get used to this," she sighed lightly, smiling as the breeze caressed her face and hair. Evangeline had, apparently, barged into her room that morning and happily picked out her clothes for the day. Hermione had been dressed in a transparent white, sleeveless button up with pale red roses, some strange wrap around her chest underneath to keep her decent, and a pair of pale rose colored shorts that showed off her legs. He'd had to glare at every man who'd glanced a little too long at her, and kept putting his arm around her shoulders or waist, although once she'd accidentally flashed the ring, and that had scared off around thirteen men in the vicinity.

"You could, if you wanted to," he offered, and she turned to look at him curiously as he picked his arms up, shifted a bit so the button-up shirt he was wearing wouldn't pinch the skin, and used them to pillow his head as he watched the sky. "Once we're married. You wouldn't have to work a day in your life, if you wanted to. Neither would I. We could just steal away, hide out in the countryside, and never do much of anything."

"Tempting," she said with a quick grin, not even hesitating, "But no, thank you. Despite how much I complain, I like my work."

"How did you become a wedding planner anyway?" he asked, turning onto his side and propping his head up.

"I…" she faltered this time, twisted the ring nervously, before giving him a smile. "I wanted to be a Healer, actually. No, scratch that – I _was_ a Healer. One of the youngest, and one of the best. Part of it was how quickly I took every class, every exam necessary, part of it was…well, war shit. I knew most basic things for healing from firsthand experience." He nodded back at her, noticing her watching his face, and gave a small smile for her. She returned it, tucking her hair behind her ears, and went back to talking. "I was in the maternity ward. Pre-natal care, delivery, infancy. I took care of it. But, what I specialized in, was the…more difficult cases. Ones where it was unsure if the baby or the mother or both would make it. And, as time wore on, I couldn't handle it. Yes, sometimes there was life and a happy-ending, and a family rejoiced, but most of the time…most of the time I saw a wounded mother who felt she'd done something wrong, I saw a child who would never see it's mother's smile, I saw a man who'd lost his child or his wife, or sometimes I would see the man in the hallway collapse because he'd been so close and now they were both taken away from him. It felt so very much like war, one where the battles were daily and the opponent wasn't something you could easily get rid of," she admitted, and a tear dripped down from her eye, so Blaise took a fingertip to banish it. "I quit, after I realized how hopeless I felt. Took some time to heal myself, some self-care. Spent more time with my parents, tried to figure out what I wanted out of life. I wanted…happiness. I wanted to help others achieve happiness, to think that maybe they would continue with that happiness for the rest of their lives. So I became a wedding planner, because I'm meticulous and organized and I listen to others and help them with their goals. But sometimes weddings get ruined too, and all I can think of is if it's going to be another unseen war I'm going to fight in, or if it's just one bad, mismatched couple."

"Are you afraid we're going to be a mismatched couple?" he quietly asked.

She was silent for a long while, but he recognized it as her Thinking Face, and let her take the time. "At first, I thought so. And, even though we haven't spent that much time together, or even know each other completely well, I…I think we're going to be fine, Blaise."

He grinned, and moved to put his head on her lap, closing his eyes and inhaling pure sunshine, "I think so too, Hermione."

She chuckled, and he expected her to push him off, but instead was rewarded with her raking her nails through his scalp, and so he sighed in contentment and nearly fell asleep as she hummed and thought to herself, staring at his face but thinking that he didn't notice.

Once it was time for dinner, the two Apparated back to the house, stepping in from the small courtyard and making their way to the kitchen. Rather than smelling delicious food, or the beginnings of it, the two were greeted by Simone, Damiana, Evangeline and another girl perched at the breakfast nook, all nursing cups of tea and being strangely silent.

"Are we interrupting something?" Blaise questioned, making all four women jump and look at him in shock. He settled beside Hermione uneasily, hands on his hips and glancing at each person as he tried to get some answer out of one of them.

"We…" Evangeline glanced at her mother and grandmother before looking to the girl beside her. She was tanned and blonde, but with a natural softness that most tan and blonde girls in Italy seemed to lack. She was more round in the face, and had a set of dull green eyes, but she seemed kind enough.

"Evangeline has decided to share a bit of news with us," Simone answered as Damiana murmured Italian into her tea, Blaise catching phrases of " _didn't even think of this happening"_ and _"what about the grandchildren? Hmm?"_

"Blaise," Evangeline stood, settling her hand on the blonde girl's shoulder. "This is Rosa. She's…she's my girlfriend."

Blaise blinked owlishly at his sister, then at Rosa – who sheepishly grinned back at him – then at his mother and grandmother.

"Well, you aren't thinking of disowning her or any such rubbish, are you?" he asked, and Rosa paled while Evangeline blanched, the two in question snorting in surprise.

"Merlin, no, Blaise, we're just shocked is all," Simone insisted before turning to Rosa and Evangeline and smiling softly, "We're not upset at all, at either of you, it's just…well we expected that you'd _at least_ tell us you were dating someone, or felt this way about the same gender, or even hearing a bit about Rosa before you just suddenly sprung her on us."

"We at least had fair warning from Blaise," Damiana muttered, and Simone sighed as Evangeline tensed.

"I know how you feel about blood status, as you've been sure to make it clear to us, but as for how you feel about gays…well, it never came up, and I wasn't sure, and I was scared," the dark haired beauty, trying to conquer the childish tears, dropped big fat tears onto her girlfriend's shoulder, who simply held her hand and squeezed and channeled comfort and relief into her.

"Well, we didn't exactly have a sociopath running around killing a lot of gay people in the past decade to use as a starting point in the conversation," Damiana huffed before sighing and engulfing Evangeline into her grasp, "I love you, but I am hurt that you have been living under my roof and have not shared so much of yourself to me."

"I'm sorry, Grandmother," Evangeline broke down into heavy sobs, clasping at her grandmother as Blaise uneasily edged toward Hermione, who reached out and grabbed his hand to comfort his discomfort.

"Do not be sorry, _tesorino_ ," she soothed as Hermione, recognizing the word, blinked and looked searchingly at Blaise, who only grinned back at her. "I love you. Always. And I want you to find love too." She turned to Rosa, who was still quiet, and smiled back. "And I'm glad she found it in you."

Rosa, fighting back her own tears, smiled back and jumped in her seat as Simone settled her hand on her shoulder and offered a handkerchief. Taking it with a laugh, Rosa smiled and dabbed at her eyes as she sniffed.

"Not to ruin the terribly wonderful moment," Rosa finally spoke, "May I ask what Hermione Granger is doing here?"

All eyes blinked, as if it were a sudden realization that Rosa had no idea as to the circumstances, and Blaise barked a nervous laugh as Evangeline grinned over at her brother.

"I'll explain the full details later, but she's engaged to Blaise," she said, grinning wider at her confused girlfriend's blank stare.

Dinner was finally remembered, as well as calling Lia back in to explain things to, and Rosa aided in cooking with Hermione, the two chopping ingredients and chatting amicably, letting the family settle down together and reassure Evangeline that they certainly did love her and that Rosa seemed wonderful.

"I didn't know girls could date girls," Lia spoke in a loud whisper to her brother, looking at him curiously as he blinked.

"Well, a lot of people think that girls and girls shouldn't date, or that boys and boys shouldn't date, but there's really nothing stopping them from dating or even getting married, especially in wizarding society," Blaise offered, trying to speak softly as he stirred the sauce. "Especially if they're in love."

"Well," Lia said after a short pause, "If Evie's happy, then it's okay. Some people are just meanies."

Evangeline, hearing this, started peppering the little girl's face in kisses, making her squeal as Blaise took to tickling her. Rosa was integrated into the dinner table warmly, and Lia preened as she took to cooing over the little girl at every available moment. They spoke about both Rosa's and Hermione's families, learning more about Muggle customs through Hermione and delving deeper into Rosa's family and discovering which family members Damiana had gone to school with.

Blaise had been escorting Hermione back to her room, trying to ignore the whispering from his sister and Rosa and the bottom of the stairs, and had been surprised as he was deftly pulled in and collapsed in the middle of the bed.

"What was that _tresorina_ that your grandmother called me the other night?" she asked, standing before him and settling her fists on her hips.

" _Tesorino_ ," he corrected as he sat up, sitting on the edge of her bed, "It means 'my treasure.' Typically used for one's own children, or just a loving pet name for a spouse or significant other."

Hermione faltered, blinking back at him, before stammering, "W-why would she call me that?"

"Because she likes you, Hermione, and considers you family now," he announced softly before smiling, "They all do, actually. My mother and sister adore you, and consider you just another facet of their mother-daughter bonding adventures now. My grandmother actually verbally smacked me upside the head and urged me to get that ring on your finger as soon as possible. Lia fucking loves you, but I don't think that kid could hate anybody. Well, almost anybody."

Hermione gently lowered herself on the other side of him, staring at nothing really, and quietly asked him, "Did they do the same to Daphne?"

He let out a loud, wild laugh, and grinned happily at her, "No. My mother, who set it up, only tolerated her. Evangeline abhorred her, my grandmother would hardly speak to her, and Lia…noticed how I said almost anybody?" She gave a small laugh, and he tapped her chin to get her to look at him. "Hermione, my family adores you, simply because you are yourself. They couldn't care less about your blood status, or your newfound fame, or for superficial reasons. You're smart, and funny, and witty and warm, and that's given you a place in the Zabini family. Even without some ruddy contract."

She flushed, and he gently tapped his fingers over the blush, marveling at how soft she was, before she spoke softly again. "Tell me more. Italian nicknames, I mean. Not about me – I couldn't care less about me."

He grinned and hummed, allowing her more personal space – still unaware when he'd begun leaning in – and sat back against her headboard as she moved and leaned against him for comfort. "Well, _gattina_ is kitten. _Fiorellino_ is little flower. Ooh, this is only funny to us – _streghatta mia_. My little witch." And Blaise continued on and on, going through all the things that she would ever possibly come across, and by the time he even looked to wonder why she was so quiet, Hermione had been asleep against him for quite some time. Blaise quieted and stilled, looking down at her, and carefully waved his wand to slip both of their shoes off. He helped slip her underneath the covers, throwing caution to the wind and getting in bed next to her, where she quickly curled back up against him and nuzzled against his chest. He gave a quiet laugh, kissing the top of her head, and whispered in the darkness to her. " _Buonanotte mio sole_."

The morning found Blaise and Hermione tangled together, waking up slowly and stretching languidly, and Hermione neither blinked nor blushed and simply curled up against him for warmth when he stole most of the duvet again. He wrapped it around both of them, sleepiness overtaking any attempts at awkward conversation, and buried his face against her neck and hummed in content. Hermione shifted, gently unpinning a wrist from under her hip, and pressed her face against his collarbone before sighing herself.

"You sure you want to go back to work?" he grumbled sleepily, capturing her small frame and tugging her tightly to him, fitting together perfectly.

"I'm beginning to rethink it," she answered back softly, but he could hear the grin in her voice and smiled back to her. They dozed lightly together, never once trying to make things awkward, and instead listened to the other's breathing and the soft pulse of a heartbeat.

Breakfast was more of a brunch, as everyone had decided to take a late start to the day, and everyone idly chatted about things that didn't really matter. Blaise considered convincing Hermione to go back up to bed and just spending the day that way, when Simone spoke up with a sparkle in her eyes.

"Hermione, why don't I introduce you to one of my friends? They own a boutique and have some excellent wedding dresses."

"Oh," Hermione flushed, knowing she was going to have to say no, and fidgeted with the ring again. "I'm afraid I'd have to decline, Mrs. Zabini, as most of my friends are still unaware about my engagement and its circumstances, and I'd love to have them involved."

"Well there's no harm in merely looking, or having a few ideas drawn up," she insisted.

"Well, if there's no harm, I can go," Blaise brightened, and Simone scowled at her son as he grinned at her. She was going to throw every dress imaginable at the girl until she fell in love with one, then pay for it and just explain it to her friends later. Even though they were Pureblood, Simone was well versed in all wedding customs and never wanted to flub up something that would spell disaster for a marriage, no matter how short lived they were supposed to be.

So Lia was left with Evangeline and Damiana, and Blaise kept his hand in Hermione's as they walked through the tiny streets of Venice before they came to the shop. Simone's friend was Loraine, who gushed over Hermione, took her measurements, and then shuffled her into a dressing stall.

"Miss Loraine, I'm not looking to buy anything today," Hermione insisted as the woman tossed dress after dress over the door to her.

"Of course, dear! But we're trying to see which style looks best on you," she said, although she winked at Simone. "Take your time, and if you need any help zipping up, just shout!" She hurried over to where Blaise and Simone sat, positioned behind a pedestal with mirrors looking back at them on the other side, and crouched beside her friend. "She's just _gorgeous_ , Simone, you're very lucky for her as a daughter-in-law. Mine are all cranky cows." She grinned at Blaise, who chuckled because he knew her sons and their wives, and pinched his cheek, "You are lucky for very much the same reason. Going to have some beautiful children, I tell you!"

"That's going to be a while," he insisted, although he flushed darkly as she scrutinized him.

"Not unless you plan on being celibate, my boy," she scoffed, Simone chuckling at her friend's crudeness. "Oh, don't bother trying to act modest. I saw you looking at her rump."

Blaise, if possible, flushed darker, and thought that he should've just let Hermione be forced into the awkward position of explaining to her friends that she was engaged and had already found a dress without telling them. Then the dressing stall opened, Loraine stood and ushered Hermione onto the pedestal, and positioned the brunette to look at herself and the Zabini's reactions simultaneously.

It was tapered at the waist, long and flowing behind her, and it looked oddly Victorian, but Blaise still gaped and blinked and awed at how beautiful she was. Hermione remained silent, appraising herself and trying to hide the scar on her arm, before Loraine tugged a veil onto her head and put a tiny bouquet into her hands.

"Perfect," Loraine insisted, before amending, "Well, the silhouette is perfect, although I think the corset is a bit much and I do think those wide puffed sleeves are simply dreadful. What do you think, Blaise?"

Put on the spot, Blaise didn't have much time to choose his words or censor his voice of emotion, but he roughly managed, "Beautiful," and made Hermione turn a deep, dark red.

This went on for around an hour, trying on different styles of dress that Blaise couldn't tell much difference from, but each one looking more beautiful than the last on her, or maybe that was just her, maybe that was just what she did to those dresses. Loraine insisted that she come back with her friends to see what she'd drawn for her, and the three departed, finding that it was about midday and heading back into the house to change and relax back at the beach.

"It's getting all very real," Hermione murmured, biting her lip as Blaise eyed with white bikini.

"It is," he agreed softly, quietly, trying to give her as much space as possible and not touch her hand in anyway, no matter how badly he wanted to.

She, instead, leaned against him and sagged with a sigh, her gaze at the ocean before she settled her head in his lap and looked up at him. "We'll be okay, won't we?"

And Blaise, with a very near naked woman in his lap, was more entranced by her face and how amazing she was, twisted his fingers through her hair and rubbed at a spot under her ear, quietly murmured with as much sincerity as possible, "I know we will."

* * *

 **I don't really feel the need to explain what it was that Blaise said, as it's partly pretty common knowledge and partly pretty evident if you've ever even glanced at a Latin-based language. Also, google translate exists.**

 **Evangeline is gay, and if I made Damiana seem too cold by the "grandchildren" comment, I'll explain it further on. Possibly after they get married, actually. That seems better placed than just a random, passing comment to explain in the next few chapters.**

 **As said previously, I'm feeling very sick and very exhausted, so please excuse me.**

 **I would love it if you would review!**


	10. Sweetest That I've Ever Seen

**Hey guys! So, I've got some big news! I've decided to start doing YouTube! I've only got an introductory video up and a challenge video, but my channel name is EmPatheticOlive and I would love it if you guys would take a moment to check it out, maybe give me some ideas you would like to see me do? Either way, no pressure, it's just me trying to spread the word and all that!**

 **Please enjoy the chapter!**

 _"You didn't have to smile at me/ Your grin's the sweetest that I've ever seen/ But you did. Yes you did/ You didn't have to offer your hand/ Cause since I've kissed it I am at your command/ But you did/ Oh, Turpentine erase me whole/ I don't want to live my life alone/ I was waiting for you all my life/ Oh/ Why/ Set me free, my...honeybee/ Honeybee…" – Steam Powered Giraffe, "Honeybee"_

* * *

It was exactly one week until Blaise heard from Hermione again, and by that time he'd already built up a massive headache. He'd spent several days calming down Evangeline when she fretted and worried herself sick as to what her family would think of her being gay (they were fine with it and still loved her very much), what her friends would think of her being gay (they should be fine with it and if they aren't he'd kill them), and what strangers would think of her being gay (honestly, they don't matter, now please get out of the ocean, you're scaring the pelicans.) Lia had been asking many questions about her sister's revealed sexuality, mainly pertaining to babies and how they were made in even 'boy/girl' circumstances, and his mother and grandmother were never around when she began asking. He'd had to distract her every single time, and even then that was after hours of struggling with answers and attempts at ways out.

Blaise would crawl late at night into Hermione's former bed, breathing deeply and being exhausted from the end of the day, but smiling when he pictured crawling into bed, exhausted and drained, but with her smiling back at him and soothing his worries. He was actually excited to marry her, just to be able to spend loads of time with her.

He was just having a very nice lie in, dozing in and out of consciousness when he heard tapping at the window pane. After groggily standing and stretching and tripping over the duvet to the window, Blaise allowed the tawny owl to flap swiftly in, land on the nightstand, and extend its leg. As he was bending to untie the note strapped to its leg, he was surprised when the bird began to preen his hair and click her beak at him. He chuckled, stood up slowly, and watched as she nodded once and flicked through the window.

 _Blaise –_

 _So sorry to wake you, and even sorrier if Amalthea decides to groom you. She's a motherly owl, but I love her dearly. Anyway, I'm writing to inform you that I have some time in my schedule –_

Blaise brightened considerably, grinning to himself in the mirror and grimacing at his stubbly chin. Making a note to shave as soon as possible, he returned to the note.

 _I have some time in my schedule, so I was hoping that you would also have time to take a trip to the Burrow with me this Sunday. I do have to see to a wedding earlier in the day, but if you'll meet me at my office at around 3, I'll be able to Apparate you._

 _Good morning,_

 _Hermione_

Blaise let out a low, pathetic groan and flopped back onto the bed, curling up under the duvet that smelled like sunshine and magically locking the doors.

* * *

Blaise noticed that all of the roses were gone. Not a single, horrid pink petal had been left behind, and all of the vases sat bare. The waiting room looked earthy, if a bit lifeless now because of their absence, and Blaise idly set to tapping each vase with his wand and having different flowers sprout up, different colored ones as he tried to ease his boredom. He was just putting the finishing touches on some periwinkle forget-me-nots, when Jacob bustled into the room and stopped when he saw him, an armful of wilting sunflowers in his hand.

"Oh, sorry, I was – " Blaise cleared his throat, tapping his wand against the forget-me-nots and having them vanish. "Bored. I'll clean up."

"Oh, don't bother," Jacob said cheerily, although he was looking at him curiously. "I like them far better than the ones I just bought anyway." But he shrugged and placed the sunflowers in the empty vase before helping them straighten up. "Change the lilies and the roses to periwinkle, she'll love that." At Blaise's questioning look, Jacob gave him a smug smile and waved him on. "Go on, man, credit will be all yours." Blaise slowly did as he was told as the younger man relaxed and hopped up on the reception desk. "Saw that giant rock on her finger come Monday, and questioned her all about it. Said it was a quick engagement and swore me to secrecy over the true nature of it."

"I didn't plan for that to happen," Blaise insisted.

"I'll give you that," Jacob amended softly, giving a friendly smile, "But…you don't seem to be too upset to go meet her friends, and you're giving her waiting room flowers, some in her favorite color."

"You told me to change those to her favorite color," Blaise defended.

"Not those little ones you vanished once I came in here," Jacob teased.

"I…" he deflated, giving a small pout paired with his best Slytherin glare. "What's all this about, Jacob?"

"The Weasleys are gonna give you some shit," he stated simply, "But don't let that get to you. I can tell, you're good for her. Probably the best one yet, if I'm honest. Don't get upset because of her friends, feel like shit then take it out on her. It's happened before, twice, and she hates it."

"I can take whatever they give me," Blaise answered slowly.

Jacob stared him down before grinning, hopping down from his perch, and clapping his hands together once, "Great! Then off you go, meet her at the wedding, you're dressed properly enough!"

"Wait, what?" Blaise questioned. "Hermione told me to meet her here!"

"And she's _there_!" he crowed with a grin, "The wedding is running a bit later than expected, and she had no way to owl you. Sent me a Patronus and told me to tell you to just wait a bit, or even reschedule. But, instead, I'm helping you." He pulled Blaise over to the fireplace, tossed a handful of Floo powder in, and shouted an address before clapping the Slytherin on the shoulders, grinning brightly at him, and announced a quick "good luck!" before shoving him through the flames.

He had no idea what kind of game Jacob was playing at, but he was honestly quite frightened over all of it. There were running, screaming children in poofy dresses or wrinkled tuxes, adults either milling or arguing or steadily getting drunk before the procession began. Blaise found himself edging outside, out into an honestly quite lovely orchard with a beautiful archway and outdoor seating, when he heard the yelling. Well, honestly, it was more screeching than anything. He followed the sound, just knowing that Hermione would be there to make the unpleasantness go away, when he turned around the first hedge of an outdoor maze and found the bridge-to-be, with mascara running down her cheeks, screeching at his fiancé.

Hermione, for her part, was all calm, cool, and collected. She was actually settled into a smashing plum dress that was tight enough that it was sexy but not inappropriate, her hair loosely pinned up to look messy and graceful. In her arms was a clipboard with a Muggle pen nestled up top, and Hermione was only looking dully at the woman before her.

"The caterer is _late_ , Hermione!" the screeching bride announced, looking completely trashy next to his lady, although he knew better than to announce that to the both of them. "My uncles are getting ready to fight again and the children are all pests! And there is a chance of rain!"

Hermione, to her credit, merely arched an eyebrow as the complaints got more and more before she finally sighed, readjusted the clipboard with one arm, and neatly slapped the woman in the face. Both she and Blaise were stunned as Hermione took her wand and began to clean up her face, makeup and hair.

"The caterer arrived fifty minutes ago and is already done with two courses," she began correcting, "I've settled your uncles and have set out something to entertain the children for the time being. If it does rain, it will be noticed on the mountains over there first, leaving us plenty of time to clear out. And, if we are caught by surprise, I've already placed wards to cover us from the light rain shower that is sure to come." She then levelled the woman with a stern glare that McGonagall would've been proud of, "If you're getting cold feet, that's fine. Everyone does, so I hear, and it's acceptable. What is _not_ acceptable, however, is taking your frustrations out on others. That is my wedding advice to you in the future. By the way you and Kevin spoke during our entire acquaintanceship, it seems as if you two are planning on children. Children do _not_ deserve to be screeched at because you're annoyed, and your husband certainly doesn't deserve that either. It's understandable to be overwhelmed, but asking for help or a shoulder to cry on does wonders. Do I make myself clear, Delia?" At her nod, Hermione smiled and conjured a simple handkerchief, "Good. Now, go placate your mother and twirl for her while I make sure everything else is ready. I'll give you plenty of time, don't you worry. And remember to smile! It's your big day!"

Delia nodded, swishing past Blaise with only a curious look, but waved it off and to Hermione, who gaped openly at him before giving a relieved little laugh and tucking a lock of hair back behind an ear.

"You are so wicked," he greeted with a grin, approaching her and pecking her forehead. "So wicked. Oh my Merlin."

She flushed and weakly slapped his chest, "What are you doing here? I told Jacob – "

"Who shoved me through the Floo to get to you," he said as he took her hand and kissed the back of it, grinning at her cheekily as he looked at her beyond the engagement ring. "Tiring day, Miss Granger?"

"You have no idea," she sighed, her shoulders sagging as she looked at him with relief, like he was her saving grace. He loved being looked at like that. "And it's not over yet, is it?"

"No, darling, I'm afraid not," he sighed as well before perking up, "But! All you have to do is introduce your charming, sexy, bound-for-life fiancé, and I'll do the rest of the talking if you so please."

"I don't know about the charming," she teased as she bit the end of her pen.

"So you think I'm sexy?" he teased right back, heart pounding as her eyes flicked to his mouth before flicking back to his eyes.

"I think I have a job to finish," she stated slowly, grinning massively when he groaned. "Tell you what. Settle yourself somewhere and I'll come and find you when the ceremony's over, if you're as keen to stay as I think you are."

"How will you find me?" he questioned, before she tapped to her clipboard to show a magical map with small, labelled dots announcing where everyone and everything was. "Wicked," he breathed.

"Thank Harry's father and his friends," she smiled back before smacking herself in the forehead and shaking her head, "What am I doing? I'm working. You," she fixated him with a small, playful glare, "Shoo."

"Fine," he sighed with exaggeration, loping away through the maze slowly, hands in his pockets, "I'm off to go be by myself. Boo-hoo. My witch doesn't care for me. Boo-hoo-hoo."

He heard the loud sigh behind him and grinned eagerly as she said, "You stay beside me _at all times._ "

He quickly returned to her side, offering her his arm and grinning cheekily to her as she gave a small smile in return, "I wouldn't dream of being anywhere else."

Being a wedding planner, he decided, was a lot more vigorous than going through catalogues and talking to people to do certain things. She had to check and double check progress, help guests find their seats, check on things with the bride, then the groom, then anyone else who was important to the wedding party. She settled champagne in ice buckets, warded alcohol against children or those who'd already had too much to drink, and rearranged hors d'oeuvres, all while checking her clipboard and ticking off things on a checklist.

"You won't be like this at our wedding, will you?" he asked idly, snatching an ugly cupcake from the dessert tray and sharing it with her as they took a moment and leaned back behind the fountain to breathe.

"No, I suppose that will be a combination of my mother, your mother, and Mrs. Weasley," she snorted, smiling when he dabbed a bit of the icing onto her nose before crossing her eyes and tapping her tongue to her nose to get it. He laughed in amazement as she got most of it off, getting the rest off himself and licking his thumb with a grin as he saw her eyes watch the movement.

"You're really close to the Weasleys, then?" he questioned, "Despite, you know, the whole being exes thing?"

She shrugged, settling into his side to pinch off a bit of the cupcake. "We were able to salvage our friendship before anything could be ruined and turn awkward. But, still, I'm not as close as I once was, the mishap with Ronald aside." She frowned and rubbed at her forehead, "I still have no idea how he and Harry are going to handle…you know. An Unbreakable Vow engagement." He nodded, not feeling the need to speak at the moment, when she sighed and settled into him further. "Is it strange to say that…I feel so comfortable around you already?"

"Not strange at all," he said with a grin, kissing the top of her curly mound of hair, "As I'm very comfortable with you as well."

Hermione lifted her head and smiled at him as he smiled back, gently tugging on a curl by her ear and getting her to chuckle back at him. He saw her eyeing his lips again, and he unconsciously darted his tongue out to wet them. He felt time slow down, and after a quick glance into her eyes, began to lean towards her.

"HERMIONE!" someone shouted, one of the bridesmaids, as Hermione thumped her head against his chest, groaned, and informed him to wait there for her as she hurriedly clicked away on the stone path to go see the problem.

Blaise grumbled and cursed whoever decided that a missing garter was important enough to ruin his chances at kissing Hermione.

Soon everything was right with the world of pointless frilly scraps of lace, and Blaise stood back and watched as Delia and Kevin slowly proceeded down the aisle and were pronounced man and wife. It was a nice enough wedding, he assumed, but he took more happiness in knowing that it was all Hermione's hard work rather than the union of two people in front of all their friends and relatives. Maybe if he knew them, he'd feel differently, but right then all he cared about was whisking Hermione away, meeting the Weasleys, and maybe trying to get a kiss out of her one way or another.

Hermione was wilting and tired by the time her job was done, and leaned heavily against Blaise as he escorted her to the Floo. She called out to the Burrow, too tired to be nervous, and tugged Blaise into the fire with her.

It was a small living room for such a big family, but it felt warm and comforting. There were several squashy, comfortable-looking pieces of furniture that he could imagine several cats perched upon, and walls filled with photographs of redheaded children waving back at him. There was laughter coming from the kitchen and the backyard, and suddenly Hermione was just as nervous as he was.

"Hullo?" a motherly voice called, and Blaise tried to squash down his fear at a simple _family_ , but found that it was to no avail when his mind traitorously whispered ' _She's the one who killed Bellatrix, you know._ '

"Hullo, Mrs. Weasley!" Hermione called, biting her thumb nail before Blaise swatted at her hand with a small frown. "Uhm, I'd like for you to meet…uhh…somebody!"

"Oh, well, bring them in here, dear! I can't quite leave this sauce alone just yet!" she insisted, and Blaise felt her tugging on his sleeve as he moved to follow. He didn't know why he was quite so scared. He didn't even have a mark or anything, or did anything wrong, but he was just so bloody terrified he was already looking forward to an escape.

"Sorry I'm so late, Mrs. Weasley, but I got caught up at work," she said before tugging Blaise to her side and slipped her hand – the one with the ring – into his and started rubbing comforting circles against his skin. "Blaise here came to pull me out of it and got sucked in as well."

The plump, short woman with greying red curls kept stirring her sauce as she looked up at him, appraising him for a moment before beaming wildly, brushing her hands off on an apron and enveloped him in a hug, "It's lovely to meet you, Blaise!" He wondered if all mothers except his own and Draco's greeted people with hugs before deciding that it was probably just because she had so many children that she just automatically did this. Better safe than sorry, surely. "Well, I won't bother with warning you to treat Hermione right, as you no doubt will, but if any of the others ask, you tell them I instilled the fear of Merlin into you."

He felt the ends of his mouth quirking upward and began to smile as Hermione relaxed, "Yes, ma'am. Is there anything I can do to help you, Mrs. Weasley?"

Mrs. Weasley shared a quick grin with Hermione, "Oh, you prepared him well." She turned back to Blaise and smiled, "No, dear, nothing at all. And please, call me 'Molly' – the both of you." Hermione snorted, and he assumed that they had these conversations before. "Hermione, the boys are all out back, and so are most of the girls. Better get it over with quick, yeah?" She started waving a wooden spoon around at Blaise, "Don't let my children intimidate you, Blaise. They're just protective of Hermione, although the gal could teach them a thing or two about intimidation." He was just a little bit frightened by the slow smile on Hermione's face, but nodded to Molly all the same. "Now, go off, I'll call when supper's done."

"Yes, ma'am," they chorused before slipping into the backyard, where all of the noise was. The screen door banged shut behind them, and only a few poked their heads up at the sound to see who had ventured out to be swallowed up by the redheaded masses.

The first to greet them, as they descended the small porch steps and Blaise squeezed Hermione's hand to thank her for not dumping him off and going somewhere else, was actually Luna Lovegood. She'd tipped her head to Blaise, looked to Hermione for confirmation, and then gave her dreamy smile before slipping a dandelion into the pocket of his shirt. The next was George Weasley, accompanied by Neville Longbottom, both grinning to Hermione before looking to Blaise curiously.

"You've already got a bloke?" George questioned with a growing grin. "Faster than Ronnie, too. But, then again, baby brother does not have the legs that you do." She glared at him for that.

"You were from Slytherin, yeah?" Neville asked warily, flicking to Hermione for confirmation before he relaxed at her nod and extended his hand. "Neville Longbottom. I'm sorry, but, I don't remember your name."

Blaise relaxed and shook his hand, "Blaise Zabini. And, to answer your question – no."

George chuckled at that as Neville snorted in surprise, Hermione giving him a small glare before the redheaded former-twin loped an arm around her shoulders and pinched her cheek.

"'Course, anyone would be stupid to think that Hermione's not a good judge of character," George insisted as she swatted him away. "So, I'm sorry in advance for my little brother Ron." The two walked away with genuine grins, and Blaise was so put off by it, used to fake smiles and devious minds at Slytherin gatherings, that he didn't even notice two sticky little girls attach themselves to his legs.

"Oh!" Hermione gasped, plucking one off and then the other, "Victoire, Dominique! Please don't do that! Blaise surely doesn't want to be your jungle gym – if you do feel like climbing, there are perfectly good trees."

"Those have charms at the bottom!" the eldest, Victoire, said, lisping through the gap from losing her two front teeth before sticking her lower lip out in a tremendous pout.

"That eez so you will not get 'urt, my leetle ones," the tall blonde said as she lovingly tapped her daughters on their heads, "Please, go bozzer your fazzer, he misses you." The two giggled and ran off, the woman watching them go fondly before smiling charmingly at Blaise as Hermione bristled. " _Bonjour_. What eez your name?"

Blaise, feeling some sort of magic rolling off of her but unable to identify it, offered his hand, "Blaise Zabini, ma'am."

The woman delicately shook his and when she smiled the next time, it was to Hermione, who visibly relaxed, "Fleur Weasley. And I approve, 'ermione." She winked to the other woman, kissed her cheek, and flounced off to her own budding family.

"Hermione!" a man with horn-rimmed glasses approached them, gripping her shoulders and grinning from ear to ear, "The bill that you suggested for House Elf rights has been approved!"

Hermione beamed, accepting the man's quick hug before she gestured to Blaise, "Percy, this is Blaise Zabini. Blaise, Percy Weasley."

"Oh, hullo, howdoyoudo?" he asked in a rush, quickly shaking his hand before noticing someone behind him, "Oh, there'sAudrey – bye Hermione!"

Blaise snorted at how fast he'd spoken in his excitement, and grinned when Hermione laughed back at him. "Congratulations are in order, I presume?" She preened under the praise and he laughed, nuzzling her hair, "Where do you find time to save the world and pick out centerpieces?"

"Well, everyone has to have a hobby," she teased, "Mine just happens to be saving the world, I suppose."

He chuckled back at her before freezing completely as someone shouted at them. "Oy! 'Mione! Who'd you nab into coming into this mess?"

She wrinkled her nose and frowned at her friend, "Ronald, I've told you – "

The redheaded man Blaise knew to be Ron Weasley only grinned and mimicked her, "Don't call me 'Mione!" He tweaked her ear, which only made her madder, and said, "That's why I do it!" He turned to Blaise, suddenly eyeing him warily, and turned his smile into a frown, "Do I know you?"

"I suppose not, as we've never spoken," he said, offering his hand to shake, which he did so warily. "Blaise Zabini."

Ron's eyes glazed over as he thought, mouthing his name back at him as he tried to place him. Blaise saw his eyes flick over the patch on his left arm, which he'd left bared to help his case, and he squeezed Hermione's fingers in his right hand for strength.

"Hey, Ron!" Ginny shouted as she and Harry Potter approached, both a bouncing baby and a toddler attached to a leg marking the Boy Who Lived. "Don't piss her off before we get there! It's not fair!"

Harry Potter stood next to Hermione as the siblings bickered, the toddler attaching himself onto Hermione's leg and his hair changing to chestnut colored curls as he smiled up at her. "Hey, Hermione, how's work?" Harry asked casually.

"Pretty good, just had a long wedding," she said as she gestured to her dress, "How about you?"

"Ehh, paperwork," he wrinkled his nose before nudging the baby boy in his arms with something akin to reverence. "Gonna take time off to take care of this one, actually."

"That's great, Harry," Hermione beamed, smoothing down the few wisps of hair on the baby's head as it sleepily smacked its mouth and opened its eyes up at her. "Harry, this is Blaise Zabini. Blaise, you know Harry, this is James."

"Pleasure to meet you, sir," he said, offering his index finger to the baby and smiling when it was gripped on to. "Oh look, Hermione, he's already got better manners than I do!" She chuckled and leaned against him, Harry grinning at his best friend and then at his son.

"Blaise Zabini?" Ginny echoed, tilting her head at him as he looked up at her and tried to pry his finger from the child. "Say…weren't you in the Slug Club?"

Blaise blanched as he thought back to his only real interaction with Hermione during Hogwarts, and how much he'd hated it and how much he'd hated that stupid Yule party he'd thrown and how much he'd hated that man. It was only now that he remembered Ginny having been in it as well.

"Er, yes," he admitted with a grimace, his digit still in the baby's grasp, "It was the worst year at Hogwarts, honestly." The redheaded woman dully arched an eyebrow and he grimaced further, "Family, er…Italy."

"So you're a coward?" Ron spoke up, the three of his friends glaring at him as he crossed his arms over his chest.

"I had to make sure my family was safe," Blaise insisted with a frown, finally pulling his finger from James, "So, if that's what it means to be a coward, then yes. Proudly so."

Ron flushed and shot a guilty look to Hermione and Harry, who simply shrugged it off.

Dinner was called shortly after that, and Blaise let out a sigh of relief as he was seated between Hermione and Neville, who was eager to talk about plants, he found. Everyone was passing bowls and plates to one another, asking for one to pass this or that, and it was all so lovely and chaotic at the same time that it was making Blaise's head hurt.

And then things got worse.

Percy had called for the peas, and Hermione had been happy to take the bowl and halfway stand up to pass it to him, when something glittered in the light.

"Holy shit, Hermione, nice rock!" George called out, freezing all movement at the table from those who were above the age of seven and were not looking around for a literal rock. Hermione flushed, retook her seat, and looked at all of the faces turned their way.

"Er…that is I – "

"There was a bit of a mishap with my previous engagement," Blaise began, every eye snapping to him instead, including Hermione. "A bit nasty, really, with how things broke off, and to get back at me…well, Hermione and I have to get married."

Molly seemed conflicted at this news. Luna seemed passive and began to munch on her breadstick. Harry and Ginny were exchanging uncertain looks. George looked enthralled, while Percy was considering the circumstances that could have taken place. Neville only shrugged.

"Have to?" Arthur Weasley echoed, cleaning his glasses before returning them, "What exactly does that mean?"

"It means…" Blaise chanced a glance at Hermione, who nodded, urging him to tell a snippet of the truth, "That we're under an Unbreakable Vow to get married."

Ron immediately stood, his face purple, and Harry was quickly trying to pass off the sleeping baby to someone else.

"What the actual _fuck_?" he thundered, his fists shaking as Molly was getting ready to work herself into a tizzy as well. The children, apparently used to this arrangement, got up, took their plates, and went upstairs to eat, Percy following to watch them. "An _Unbreakable Vow?_ Who the fuck does that? Who the fuck goes along with that?"

"Well, the people bound by it do, Ronald," Hermione insisted with a frown, "Blaise and I would rather not die."

"So he's _Blaise?_ " Ron glared, crossing his arms over his chest and looking down at them, "Merlin, Hermione, I was fine with it when I thought you two were dating, but to just jump from strangers to fiancés is a bit barmy, even for you."

"What do you mean ' _even for me'?_ " she narrowed her eyes and kept her voice level and cool.

"I mean, I get that you may be desperate but – "

"I'd suggest you choose your next words very carefully," Blaise warned, almost dully, although his wand was in his lap. "Hermione and I may not have known each other long, but if you keep saying stupid things, I will make you regret them."

"See? Your Death Eater boyfriend is threatening me!"

"Oh shut up, Ron!" Hermione shouted, standing up and glaring at her friend, startling everyone left at the table. "You're being such an idiot! Blaise is not, has not and never will be a fucking Death Eater! He's a good, kind, sweet person, and you're just being a – a jealous arse! I understand you being hurt, wanting to take it out on someone, but it's not going to be him! Do you hear me?" She growled in the silence that followed, storming out into the backyard, and letting the screen door slam behind her. James, upon this, awoke even though there had been yelling not three seconds ago, and unleashed a mighty wail that had his parents glaring at the ashamed Ron Weasley.

"I'm going after her," Blaise stated as he stood, Luna, Neville and George standing as well and going with him out the door as they aimlessly walked along.

"They needed a talk with Ronniekins," George insisted, "Mum and Dad because…well, Mum and Dad, Harry and Gin because they'll be the ones he listens to the most, and Bill and Fleur to instill the fear of a woman scorned in him."

Neville chuckled at that as Blaise looked questioningly at them.

"Fleur's part-Veela," Luna offered, and Blaise blinked in surprise. "She always turns the charm on full-blast at first to see how well a prospective significant other will be for one of the family. My turn was very interesting, I'll admit. At least I didn't get another turn for Neville, who's as good as adopted in, or I may not still be here. "

Blaise glanced between Luna and George, then Luna and Neville, and opened his mouth before deciding better of it and shutting it.

"To answer your question – yes," Neville offered, and Blaise gave a small laugh as he noticed the joke.

"Nev and I are good friends, nothing more and nothing less," George stated, "We just…share Luna, I guess you could call it."

"Okay," Blaise shrugged back, finding nothing wrong with it, "So, where's Hermione?"

"Oh, you need to give her time to cool down first," Neville insisted as George nodded frantically.

"Hermione has a knack for hexing things when she gets irate," Luna hummed, tapping her wand to her lips, "Last time she was upset with Ron, she sent a flock of birds after him."

Blaise gaped, "Merlin's balls!"

"Good to know now, huh, mate?" George said with a grin, knocking his arm gently. "So, how was the snake house?"

"Oh, you know," he shrugged dully, "A little Quidditch, a bit of studying, unnecessary prejudice expecting me to be an arsehole, the very few friends I did have were mindlessly joining themselves to the likes of a psychopath, was under scrutiny from both sides of the war. Same ol', same ol'."

George, for the most part, had the decency to look abashed, "Doubt the prejudiced bit wasn't helped any by me and Fred. Sorry, mate."

He shrugged again, giving a grin this time, "Not your fault, entirely at least, but thank you all the same. I just started keeping quiet to pass by unaware most of the time. By the way, that bit with the fireworks and Umbridge? _Loved it._ "

The redhead puffed his chest out with pride and grinned happily back at him, "Really? Fred came up with most of it. I did the basics of the fireworks, we worked together on the charms."

"Impressive," Blaise enthused, coming upon the darkened lake with a weeping willow tree shrouding a figure underneath, a figure that was muttering under her breath and flicking her wand to create small bursts of light. Neville nudged him forward, and he quietly delved in between the hanging leaves into the quiet space that Hermione had taken to.

"Hey there," he softly said, sitting down beside her and giving a warm smile, "Thank you for standing up for me, back there, but I – "

"He had no right to insinuate that you were one of – of _them_ ," she spat, turning to him so he could see the fire burning in her eyes. "He had no right to call you that."

"Hermione, in case you haven't noticed, I can handle anything anyone calls me," he insisted, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, "Hell, the Daily Prophet has called me worse."

"What?" she shouted, turning to look accusingly at Luna's legs, in between both Neville's and George's.

The pale blonde face popped between the swaying branches, and blinked owlishly at Blaise. "Has it? Huh. What is your name again?"

"Blaise Zabini," he blinked back.

Her eyebrows shot up to her hairline, " _You're_ Blaise Zabini? I thought that was the scary man with the scar down his face!"

"Luna, that's Mulciber!" Hermione sighed.

"I'll fix that in the morning, don't you worry," she insisted with a nod, before her face disappeared once again.

"Well, glad to have that cleared," he grinned to his fiancé, who still looked at him glumly. "Hermione, as I was saying, I don't care what anyone says about me. All I cared about back there was what he was saying about you." He furrowed his brow as she frowned back at him, getting ready to open her mouth to argue with him. "I've been…worrying, actually, that you'll think I was agreeing to marry you to help my own reputation, or that I'll make others think less of you because of assumptions people make of me. We both know why we're getting married, but truth be told…I'm really not put out by it."

Hermione flushed, but quirked a small smile. "Really?"

"Of course," he shrugged easily, collapsing back on his hands, "I fancied you in Hogwarts, I admire your intelligence and bravery, not to mention how beautiful you are, I hold you with the utmost respect. Why on Earth would I throw a fuss about marrying you?" He scoffed, "'Oh no, send her back, she's too perfect, I wouldn't have anything to complain about.'" Hermione giggled back at him and he grinned at her, "Honestly, I can't find a damn thing wrong about you. I've looked just to prove myself right."

Hermione immediately sobered and brushed against her left arm nervously, an action that had Blaise eyeing her seriously. She bit her lip, tapping her fingers over the skin, and Blaise hesitantly reached his hand out to touch her forearm. He blinked in surprise as what he saw and what he felt didn't match up, and focused silently to undo the glamour set there. He stared down at the foul word glaring up at him, scarred there forever, before looking up to Hermione with tears in her eyes.

"Hey," he whispered gruffly, cupping her face and staring into her eyes as he brushed her cheeks with his thumbs. "You're still perfect, you hear me? I…I know this isn't the only one, but it and any others don't change anything. You're…Merlin, Hermione, you're so fucking beautiful." He pressed his forehead against hers, "One stupid scar, a hundred scars, wouldn't change that. Inside or out."

Three tears slipped out before she could stop them, but his thumbs brushed them away as she sniffed and nodded back at him. He smiled, kissing the tip of her nose and brushing his nose up and down the bridge of hers.

"I'm not put out by it either," Hermione whispered, making him blink back at the blush spreading across her cheeks and warming his hands. "I…you're too amazing, Blaise. You're sweet, and kind, and funny, and smart, and…well…you're very fit."

He chuckled at how shy she was, and placed a kiss on her cheek. He bumped her face again, grinning at her, and took her hands in his as she replaced the charm back on her arm. "How's about we finish this conversation some other night, hmm? For right now, let's go back in to see how Ron's fairing."

She nodded, allowing him to help her stand, and the two walked back to the Burrow alone, as the trio had already walked themselves back.

Ron, Harry and Mrs. Weasley were the only ones remaining at the table, everyone else having decided to take their dinners into the living room. Their conversation stopped once Hermione and Blaise returned, and a quick staring contest dictated who should speak first.

"I'm sorry, Hermione, Blaise," Ron insisted, his ears bright red as his mother glared him down. "I was a right prick – " Molly exhaled stubbornly " – and I was just upset that nearly everyone else has been paired off and I'm the only single one left. Still, I'm happy for you two, and if he's the kind of bloke who'll defend your honor with improbable odds, I give you my blessing."

"I didn't need it," Hermione clipped, Harry chuckling and grinning at her as Ron paled. She sighed, softening a bit, and slipped her hand into Blaise's for him to squeeze some comfort into it. "But, thank you, Ron. Apology accepted from me, and thank you for understanding."

"So, Unbreakable Vow, huh?" Harry questioned.

"Ah-ah," Hermione insisted with a glare, "I don't need Auror Potter right now, thank you."

"Or ever," Blaise warned, "As much as I would love justice on this one, I'm afraid it'll have to take a back seat to, y'know, us living."

Harry arched an eyebrow, glancing to Hermione before looking back to Blaise, "So, what would you tell just plain ol' Harry?"

Blaise grinned in return, "Doubt you've been just that since you were, oh, about eleven, hmm, Potter?"

Harry chuckled, flashing a grin before urging him on with the tip of his head.

Blaise sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, before nodding, "Daphne Greengrass and I were set up in an arranged marriage. I broke things off, insulting the original contract and its myriad of loopholes in the process. Next day, I go to Hermione's, touch her hand in an act of comfort and the Vow gets taken place. Apparently a contract with the Unbreakable Vow woven in was created, but they neglected to add Daphne's name, which is how I'm engaged to Hermione." He eyed her before smiling again, "Happily, I may add." She flushed but tried to resist a smile.

"So, now that I've thoroughly embarrassed myself," Ron declared with a grin, "When do we get to the part to threaten him?"

"I think the threat of death does that for you," Molly scoffed, Hermione and Blaise both grinning at the Weasley matriarch. "Come on, dears, eat up, you're both looking far too skinny."

Blaise retook his seat at the table with Hermione, who chuckled and did as she was asked, Harry and Ron sitting down to eat with them as Molly puttered about before finally collapsing at the head of the table with a cup of tea.

"So when are you getting married?" Ron asked, scooping a pile of potatoes onto his fork.

"December fifth," Blaise answered before shrugging to Hermione, "Or sooner. The fifth is just when it, err, needs to happen."

"Can we be your bridesmaids, Hermione?" Harry asked, batting his eyelashes as she laughed. "You were my best man!"

"Yeah, which was completely unfair," Ron insisted with a haughty sniff. "Ginny wouldn't even make up the difference and have me as her maid of honor!"

"Probably because you have no honor," Harry teased, nudging an elbow into his friend's ribs.

"Sorry, boys, I've got my bridesmaids all picked out," she grinned, spearing a green bean with her fork.

"Spoilsport," Harry hissed. "I was looking forward to taffeta and lace for ages, I'll have you know!"

"Did you take his dream job or something?" Blaise asked Hermione, who chuckled and gleamed with a joy he'd never seen before. All was finally right with the world – her parents approved of him, his family approved of her, and the Weasleys approved of them. Everyone was aware and everyone was alright with everything.

Hermione, however, only smiled back at Blaise like he was the one who'd done all those things for her, like he'd laid out how things should go and set to do them, even though that hadn't been the case at all and luck had just been on their side. "Harry helped me start my job, actually. He's got a knack for starting up friends' dreams."

"Gin and I were actually her first customer, so it's not like I just gave it to her like I did Fred and George," Boy Wonder said with an honest blush as he waved his fork around vaguely.

"Blaise, how did you enjoy Hermione's parents?" Molly spoke up, looking at him softly yet tiredly, as a woman with a full brood of loved ones tends to do.

"Oh, they're wonderful," he insisted eagerly, grinning massively, "I was afraid Hermione's father would gut me or something, but we got on very well. Grandmother's made me promise to get a few recipes from him next time I see him, actually."

"God forbid those two end up in a kitchen together," Hermione chuckled, ignoring the way Molly eyed the two of them before smiling to herself like something had been confirmed.

The two spent a few more hours with the Weasley brood, chatting and laughing and soaking up the presence of good company. Blaise was surprised as to how Hermione fit into each little niche of the family. Molly and Arthur treated her as a mature daughter, and happily doted on her and gave out affection to her. Bill, Charlie, Percy and their significant others treated her as another little sister to tease. George and Neville were her good but not best friends, quick to make her laugh and making her light up a smile. The children loved her to death, smothering her with hugs or kisses or color changing hair – he'd finally been introduced to Teddy, who eagerly showed him the twenty-seven different noses he could make, and Blaise had raptly watched them all before inquiring about the ears and making the boy look like he'd just handed him the recipe to the Elixir of Life. Luna and Ginny were her closest female friends, chatting about wedding dresses and decorations that Hermione announced sounded too much like work.

Ron and Harry, however, were brothers to her separated only by blood. There were things that would bond people together for life, and although war was wont to do so, their friendship transgressed such a blemish. They knew each other to a tee, knew their faults and proudest moments, knew which issues to skirt around at which time, knew which inside joke to bring up and when. Blaise, as much as he didn't want to admit it, was jealous of this. Not that he thought they harbored any secret feeling for Hermione, of course not. He was jealous because he'd grown up while his eldest sister was away at school and his youngest sister wouldn't be born for years. He was jealous because he'd had to try to fit into the Slytherin mold, try to be cold and devious and with a sharp tongue to get anywhere. It was such a chore trying to figure out who actually liked you for the real you and if they even knew the real you, that Blaise ultimately just stopped after Draco and Theo. And even then, he'd let Theo fade away and let Draco turn into a monstrous prat to let it come crashing down around himself. Perhaps it was actually Blaise's fault for letting that happen. Perhaps he wasn't Sorted properly, or perhaps he was Sorted too early.

"What's wrong?" Hermione asked as they appeared in his living room, full of good food and exhausted from the amount of socializing they'd done that day.

He blinked at her before schooling his features, "Nothing, my dear, just a bit tired, I'm afraid."

"A lie," she said without batting an eye, smirking at his glare and poking him in the chest, "Now don't go all Slytherin on me, Blaise. What's up?"

He sighed and collapsed onto his couch, a corner of his mouth twitched as she collapsed into his side. He explained his dilemma with his House and appearances and the state of his friendships. He recounted all of the shenanigans he and Theo got up to in their younger years while Draco was off strutting about with Crabbe and Goyle following. She watched and listened as he told her all he learned about her and the Weasleys, all he saw while she sat and laughed with her friends. She stayed silent the entire time until he slunk against the cushion and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"I think you should find Theo," she said softly, threading her fingers through his hair and making him groan and relax further.

"Dunno where he is," he murmured back sleepily.

She scoffed, although he could tell a grin was present, "It's not like he's Untraceable. He's Pureblood, so I doubt he'd function properly in the Muggle world without the Wizarding one at least hearing a bit about it. If you'd like, I can ask Harry to – "

"Have the Aurors go after a man whose father was a Death Eater? Bad move, Hermione," he insisted before chuckling at her hum, turning to his side and looking at her sleepily. "I'll think on it. Thank you for listening to me rant, and thank you even more for a lovely day."

She smiled back at him, their faces inches apart, and whispered. "Thank you for standing up for me today, and for making it so much better."

"Any time," he promised quietly.

There was a few moments of silence where they simply eyed each other, before Blaise sighed and stretched and said, "If I may be so bold as to invite you to my bed tonight? Innocently, of course. I've just missed…" He paused, wondering how to go on, and she interrupted.

"I have too," she admitted before standing, "Let me change, brush my teeth and feed Crookshanks, and I'll be right back." She smiled before disappearing through the Floo, and Blaise rushed to do the same as she – short of feeding a cat – and was lounging around on the sofa in his pajamas when she returned in her own. His mouth went dry at the tiny shorts, probably for athletic purposes but no less alluring, and the sweater that threatened to slip off her shoulders and leave them bare – he didn't want to think about why they would be bare, or he'd be in need of a very cold shower.

He showed her to his bed, where she giggled at the green sheets and grey comforter before he picked her up and gently tossed her onto the mattress. She snuggled into a pillow, curling in on herself and sighing as he stretched out next to her and tossed an arm over her stomach.

"Goodnight, Blaise," she murmured softly against his collar bone.

"Goodnight, Hermione," he whispered into her hair.

In the morning, Blaise awoke to a ginger cat pinning his legs down and a scrap of parchment on the pillow next to him.

 _Good morning – had to work, so sorry I didn't wake you. Crookshanks was peeved I wasn't an adequate snuggle partner last night, so I assured him that you would do. If you tire of him, just Floo to my flat and drop him off there. I'll see you tonight otherwise, around 8 if you're available._

 _Love,_

 _Hermione_

 _PS – thank you for the flowers._

* * *

 **I can't say I really know how to summarize my thoughts after all of this, other than to say that I started my second semester of college and I have too many early classes.**

 **Also, wanting to ask – how would everyone feel if I were to consider bumping the rating up to M? For, uhm, reasons that the rating would explain itself.**

 **Please leave a review letting me know what you thought of the chapter and what you think of the possible rating change!**


	11. I Think That Possibly, Maybe

**Hello all! So, I'll have a short note about the rating at the bottom of the chapter, but for now I'd like to give a quick warning that parts of this may or may not sound vaguely like _Good Omens_ by Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett, as I've been re-reading it for about the eighth time. If you have read or re-read _Good Omens_ , please leave your favorite quote in a review, or favorite character, or anything related to it. And if you haven't read _Good Omens_ , but like some of the wording or tone in this chapter, then you'll probably like it, if you like a demon accidentally screwing up the delivery of the Anti-Christ and then teaming up with an angel to try to stop the Apocalypse. And funny bits. Just…just go read it, people.**

 _"_ _I think that possibly, maybe I'm falling for you/_ _Yes, there's a chance that I've fallen quite hard over you/_ _I've seen the paths that your eyes wander down, I wanna come too/_ _I think that possibly, maybe I'm falling for you/_ _No one understands me quite like you do/_ _Through all of the shadowy corners of me/_ _I never knew just what it was/_ _About this old coffee shop I love so much/_ _All of the while I never knew/ I think that possibly, maybe I'm falling for you..."_ Landon Pigg, _"Falling in Love in a Coffee Shop"_

* * *

It just wasn't fair. None of it was fair.

She'd spent years training and grooming to be the best little Pureblooded wife she could be. Astoria had been snatched up at the age of four by the Malfoys, but had been in the running alongside Pansy Parkinson the entire time. She'd had to wait for years upon years, primping and grooming and demurring to try to attract a worthy mate. Of course, she hadn't been lonely in that amount of time, she'd dated, but she knew none of them would ever go anywhere. It'd taken ages for the Zabinis to agree to her father's suggestion. And only then because of the stupid war.

And now where were the Greengrasses? Astoria was practically disowned, although the Malfoys were her new family anyway. Previously, once married, Pureblooded wives never contacted their birth families unless there was some sort of function to attend. Like a wedding. Or a funeral. Her father's business was flailing, and her marriage into the Zabini family was supposed to bring a large sum – not that the Zabinis knew that. And where was she?

 _Single._

She couldn't believe how unfair it was. And her contract idea, although illegal, was admittedly genius. How could they have forgotten to put her own name anywhere in the document? They were in a hurry, true, but that still doesn't allow for that mistake. Not even _once?_

Daphne, in her darkening room, perused through the contract once again. Her father still wasn't really speaking to anyone, unless it was in an angry roar, and her mother…her mother didn't really speak much anyway. It was hard to tell what she wanted, even as a child. She'd always looked up to Astoria for guidance, to Astoria for praise. And if she ever got a higher mark than Astoria had in a class, or looked prettier in a certain dress than Astoria did, that's when she got praised by her father.

He'd loved the contract idea.

There had to be something she could do to salvage everything, to reclaim Blaise and send Hermione Granger packing once more. But, as she skimmed through for the fiftieth time, there was nothing. Blaise Zabini had to marry Hermione Granger, and that was that. No room for Daphne to wedge herself in before the nuptials.

Her eyes widened and she edged closer to the parchment, a nail tapping along the lines to check and double check the plan that she was forming.

There was no room _before_ the nuptials…but there was _after_.

With a wide grin, Daphne hopped up from her chair and rushed from the room, contract in hand.

* * *

"You do this every day?" Blaise asked dully, leaning against the receptionist's counter as Jacob sighed and zipped around with a clipboard and a quill hovering nearby.

"More or less," he agreed with a sigh, rolling the sleeves of his shirt up again before straightening his vest. "Sometimes I help Miss Granger take notes during meetings, sometimes I answer Floo calls or Muggle calls and set up her schedule. Sometimes it's a lazy day and I just water flowers and catch up on some reading."

"I'd prefer the lazy days," Blaise grumbled, glaring down the hallway at the meeting that was currently occupying his witch's time.

"No, you wouldn't," Jacob insisted with a laugh, "Because my lazy days are _always_ her busy days. The woman takes a break for winter holidays, but not much else can stop her."

"Her birthday?" Jacob shook his head. "What if she gets sick?"

"She'll call off face-to-face meetings, but that just gives her an excuse to catch up on everything else," he answered with a shrug, "The woman doesn't take it easy."

"Now that certainly will not do," Blaise hummed, settling his chin on his fist and eyeing the hallway once more. "That can't be healthy to never take a break. Maybe I can convince her for all the holidays, start off slow, work our way up to her birthday…."

Jacob snorted, chuckling at him as he marked off things on the clipboard. "Good luck with that, mate, you'll need it."

Blaise chuckled back at him, nodding before a woman with a small child appeared from the hallway, a man shaking Hermione's hand and all grinning broadly.

"Thank you again, Miss Granger," the man insisted, Hermione shaking her head to him.

"Please, Jack, it's my pleasure," she smiled, turning to the woman and child. "I'll see you two next Thursday for the fittings?"

"Yes, ma'am," the woman agreed as the little girl pet her mother's hair. "What do you say, Gracie?"

"Thank you, Mionie!" the little girl, Gracie, crowed.

Hermione beamed back at her, bid the couple goodbye, and happily sighed as she collapsed into Jacob's chair and kicked her heels up. It was a day where she was dressed down, as down as she allowed herself to be, in black flats, tight black trousers, and then some aqua flowy blouse that Blaise really liked on her. She tugged her hair out of the bun and the curls sprang to life, expanding as if by magic. Or perhaps there was some magic to get it into that fierce little bun, but he was just enamored with her hair.

"So, you're all done on the professional side for today," Jacob declared from his clipboard, checking something off happily as Blaise leaned across the countertop to grin at her as she picked at her hair to get it to settle properly. She hardly noticed her assistant, however, as she was swatting off Blaise's searching fingers with small laughs.

Merlin save him, he was a goner.

"And the personal side?" she questioned, sticking her tongue out to Blaise.

"You're meeting with McGonagall in two hours, leaving you just enough time to eat lunch or frolic in a field or whatever it is you want to do with your new beau," Jacob snorted at her small glare, waggling his eyebrows at her before dodging as she swatted near him with an empty folder.

"Think we could eat lunch _and_ go frolicking?" Blaise enquired, rearranging a few of the flowers in a nearby vase. "Actually, can we go lurking? Slytherins are much better at lurking than frolicking."

"I'm unsure of how and where to lurk," Hermione insisted with a growing smile.

"Well, we can lurk in a park, it's all terribly easy to do," Blaise insisted as Jacob contained his snickers. "You just go and do normal park things, but when anyone gets nearby or tries to talk to you, you have to scowl and glare at them and mutter things about their reputation under your breath."

"Seems harsh," she barked out a laugh, standing and stretching as Blaise tried not to follow the movement with his eyes. "Let's go for a quick bite, then settle into some first-level based lurking if we're feeling up to it."

Blaise laughed, following her out after a quick parting from Jacob, settling into her side easily down the sidewalk. Her office was situated in a quaint little spot on Diagon Alley, a few blocks down from where George's shop was to try to discourage any pranks, but still close enough to pop in to say hello. They made their way to the Leaky Cauldron, discussing the proper way to lurk or at the very least glower, when they happened to bump into others.

Hermione Granger and Pansy Parkinson had never gotten along during their school years, definitely not getting along immediately after Pansy had suggested they turn Harry in to Voldemort. Since then, they'd accepted their differences, understood the circumstances during which Pansy had tried to sacrifice her best friend, and exchanged pleasantries whenever absolutely necessary.

Blaise had never really been entirely fond of her. Simply because he was Draco's Best Friend and she was Draco's Ex-Girlfriend, as according to the Best Friend Code.

Astoria, on the other hand, had accepted Pansy's friendship, as Astoria was in the belief that one could never have too many friends, and Draco had been forced to endure their snickering on his account far too many times.

So it made sense that the two were out looking for baby things together.

Blaise had hoped he'd never had to get roped into those things with any Slytherin girl, let alone anyone similar to Pansy Parkinson.

The woman, who had vaguely maintained the pug-like face but learned the magic of contouring and smokey eyeshadow, had styled her dark hair into a fashionable bob and made sure that her eyebrows were just thin and angular enough to ensure a look of distaste. Everything seemed to be sharp points on her, and the sundress – which was admittedly pretty – seemed far harsher when worn on her.

"Hello Blaise, Hermione, didn't expect to be running into you two today!" Astoria greeted cheerfully, snagging Hermione into a hug and causing Blaise to chuckle.

"Blaise, Granger," Pansy acknowledged with small nods of the head. "Congratulations on the engagement."

"Thank you," they'd chorused with similar nods of the head.

"We were just heading over to the Leaky to grab lunch, you'd be more than welcomed to join us," Astoria offered kindly, turning to Blaise to continue, "We're meeting Draco there, actually."

The two shared a quick Look, one that all couples – platonic or otherwise – eventually seemed to get a hang of after they'd been around one another for long enough and gotten onto the same wavelength. It was one that debated the pros and cons of sitting down to eat at a table with Astoria Greengrass-Malfoy – pregnant, disowned sister to the woman who'd Screwed Things Up – Draco Malfoy, professional Scowler and Maker of Ill-Timed Comments, and Pansy Parkinson – Tried to Sell Out Your Best Friend and Savior of the Wizarding World and Life as We Know It to the Dark Lord That One Time and Really Unsure of Where Each of Us Stand with Her as of Now.

After such a Look transpired, they took a deep breath each and humbly agreed.

Draco greeted his wife first with a quick peck on the cheek and a small smile, Pansy next with a small nod of the head, and appraised Granger silently as she slowly took to bristling.

"Blaise," he began as his friend let out a low sigh, "How is it that Granger hasn't run for the hills yet? Or is it that you've already dragged her back? Certainly the latter, I'm unsure of how your own mother stands your company."

Blaise scoffed as Hermione deflated, pulling her chair out for her before sitting next to her, leaving her next to Astoria while he took the seat next to Pansy for deflection purposes. "And hello to you too, you wanker."

Astoria rolled her eyes and leaned over to Hermione with a grin, hiding her mouth from her husband with a menu as her eyes gleamed with mischief, "He's always like this to people he likes, never take offense from him if he acts like this."

"Just give him a couple of wollops if he gets out of line, but then again you remember how to do that, hmm?" Pansy offered with a malicious little smile at Draco, Hermione and Blaise stifling their giggles. Draco, in turn, settled her with a half-hearted glare, which was really the Slytherin equivalent of sticking your tongue out.

"Now, how are the wedding things going?" Astoria questioned, turning to Hermione with a genuine smile. Astoria, Blaise had always believed, had either been Sorted incorrectly or had somehow bribed the Hat, as she was always far too warm and welcoming to be 100% Slytherin. He was leaning somewhere towards bribery, as that was a much more Slytherin thing to do, which probably left her at around 20% Slytherin and then some other percentage of all the other Houses rolled into one. She was plenty smart, perhaps not up to Ravenclaw's high standards, and warmer than Hufflepuff could ever dream to be. He knew she was brave, simply because she'd stuck by Draco for so long against any naysayers. Astoria was absolutely as scary as they come because she could give you some smart idea, warm you up to it, point out that you could do it with a bit of guts, and then sit back and watch as it turned things into her favor.

"They're going well, so far," Hermione admitted after placing her order with the waiter, "It's been hard to get things going what with…well, everything else a normal couple is able to do in the span of their relationship, and then trying to plan on top of that."

"I doubt I would wait, what with, you know," Pansy awkwardly sipped at her water for a pause, "The consequences."

"Well, we do have a schedule," Blaise supplied, "We're meeting with McGonagall today to finalize some things and get her input."

Draco looked up to him curiously, "Why are you meeting with McGonagall?"

"We're having the wedding at Hogwarts, as well as the reception, and we're going to ask McGonagall to officiate for us," Hermione cut in.

Astoria was alight with this news, "That sounds marvelous! Ooh, it'd be wonderful, with the candles, and with the right set of ribbons we could really do a lot!"

"Astoria loves ribbons," Pansy snarked casually, twirling a fork around on its prongs, "Thinks they belong on everything, apparently."

Astoria glared across the table at her friend, "Ribbons are perfectly fine on baby clothes."

"If you're dressing them from the 1940s, perhaps," Pansy agreed, "Nowadays, babies are far more stylish than you seem to think."

"Why, got a brood hidden away somewhere, Pansy?" Blaise joked.

Pansy sipped at her water.

"Pansy," Astoria gripped the table, staring down her friend as Draco scooted his chair a little bit away from the table. "Are you…?"

Pansy scoffed, "Please, as if I would do that to my body. No offense, Astoria, but have you _seen_ what childbirth does to you? No, I'm not pregnant." She looked to her glass as the table seemed to stare at her, "My girlfriend is."

They all fell silent with this news, the couples exchanging numerous Looks, and Pansy simply stared each of them head on.

"Who is she?" Draco asked.

"Cho Chang," she answered, which then set Hermione into a fit of giggles. The entire table then turned to stare at her as she tried to catch her breath and started waving at Draco.

"Ma-Malfoy, you – you've got something in common with Ha-Harry," she giggled breathlessly, "You – you – your first girlfriends are – hehe – "

The one to pick up, funnily enough, was Astoria, who began laughing herself, "Oh-ho-ho, Draco, oh…oh no…"

Next was Pansy, who tried to stifle her laughs into her fist to no avail, "I never thought of that…that's…"

Draco, in turn, turned a marvelous puce color and glared at the Gryffindor who started it all.

Blaise cracked up and got everyone laughing louder.

Once everyone had calmed down, Hermione wiped at her eyes and turned to Pansy.

"How is that working, did you try artificial insemination?" she asked with a sniffle.

"Something like that," she answered while trying to smother a grin, "A magical branch of that. We…" She sobered, picking at her napkin, "We lost the first two. With me. Cho tried it and it stuck. She's four months along, by now."

"Congratulations," Hermione stated warmly, "The odds are far worse without a magical safety net. Tell me, how does it work in wizarding terms?"

"Oh, they take bits from the magical core, to get both parents', erm…" she faltered, "Dee-nay, or something."

"DNA?" Hermione supplied.

"Yes! That one," she nodded along, "Cho's wanting a little girl. I'd be fine with anything, perfectly honest. We want it a surprise, though."

"That's wonderful, Pansy," Astoria insisted, "But why did you never tell us you were seeing somebody, let alone serious enough to have a baby with them?"

Pansy sighed and reclined back in her chair, watching as Draco's face slowly faded back to its milky color, "Because…I was in enough shit with my parents, and didn't want to ruin things with you lot too. Once they figured out I could produce a legitimate heir, they started crabbing at me to make her a Parkinson." She frowned at Blaise, as Draco still wasn't looking in her direction just yet, "Now I see why you boys were always complaining about dating bullshit."

Blaise slung an arm around Hermione's shoulders and grinned back at her, "And see? I got everything all settled out for me, and it worked wonders."

"You just have to be a lazy little shit and things just fall into place for you?" Draco pouted, still not over the newest revelation that he had something in common with Potter.

"Well, he did have to put up with Daphne for ages, I think he's entitled to something good by now," Astoria snorted daintily as Hermione was awed into silence, Blaise happily rubbing in a little heart on her shoulder blade.

"Isn't there a baby clause in that thing?" Pansy questioned with a narrowed gaze, "Two in however many years?"

"Yes," Blaise, Hermione and Astoria chorused.

"And…did it say anything about miscarriages?" she continued, settling down with that somber stare as her gaze flicked from Hermione to Astoria.

"It…it didn't mention anything, no," Astoria supplied as Draco began scrubbing his hands down his face.

Suddenly put on the spot in such an unwanted topic, Hermione began to fidget.

"I mean, it shouldn't take you years if you start going at it like bunnies," Pansy insisted casually, "Just…when you're ready, and want to check the, err, pipes, I'll set you up with our Healer, if you want."

"That'd be very nice, thank you, Pansy," Hermione nodded, smiling at her as she ceased her fidgeting, as she sensed the conversation was coming to a close, "I'll let you know whenever we're ready."

"No problem," sipping at her water again, Pansy finally decided on something, "Hermione."

Lunch continued and ended, compiled of mostly baby talk from both Astoria and Pansy, while Draco and Blaise sat off to the side and simply nodded when either one glanced their way to look for some sort of approval, although they really weren't sure what half of these things were, seeing as they didn't have the proper parts.

Hermione, on the other hand, was silent, simply watching the conversation flit over her head and making no move to grasp at any particular strand of it. Seeing this as odd, Blaise tapped her hand under the table during a lull, and looked at her curiously.

She gave a soft smile, a small shrug, and went back to her grilled chicken.

"Talk," he instructed as soon as they'd bid everyone goodbye and set out on the sidewalk again.

Hermione seemed to collapse in on herself, rubbing at her arms and staring ahead of her, lost in thought. "It's…difficult, trying to fit myself into that…that idea that it's going to be us very, very soon."

He nodded, reaching for her hand, completely understanding what she meant. It was much like filling in for someone else's role – you were expected to do all of the same things as them, but you were entirely unsure how you were to exactly go about them, and you were very unsure about whether or not you'd had the proper training to be going about and doing this.

"We're going to take things as they come, alright?" he asked, waiting for her small nod and careful smile. "First marriage, then baby carriages."

He didn't even mention the bit about love, because he was fairly certain where he stood on the matter, he just wasn't entirely sure he wanted to hear about hers just yet.

So she relaxed, gave him a grateful grin, and they proceeded to annoy the fuck out of George for forty-five minutes before being shooed out and forced to attempt to lurk at a nearby park, which then turned into fifteen minutes on the swings.

* * *

 **I've decided to split this chapter now, because…well, because I'm tired but want to update.**

 **Anyway, about the rating change – I've decided that I will turn this story into an M rated one _eventually_. Right now it's a bit too early to go about slinging schlongs and what have you, at least too early for my liking. I'll wait until it's ready for it to change the rating.**

 **BUT it has come to my attention that many people (who are not sinners such as the rest of us) (good on you, by the way) are not comfortable with continuing with the story if the rating bumps up. And I don't want people to stick around for, ohh, let's ballpark 30 chapters, only to never get the conclusion they deserve just because there's bits in it that they don't want to sully their minds with. My solution? Simple:**

 **I'll create another story, but start it at wherever I bump up the rating. So, if chapter 20 is the last of the innocent chapters, I'll create another story where it starts at chapter 21. Make sense?**

 **If anyone has any questions about this nonsense, please feel free to PM me, as I may get back to you faster that way. Er…actually, maybe not at all that fast, as I only ever log in to update something…Heh. Just, uhm…patience, and all that, when it comes to messages.**

 **Thank you for reading this lengthy message! And thank you even more for reading this chapter! I would love it if you would take the time to review! Anyways, I'll see you next chapter!**


	12. You Keep Turning My Life Around

**Guess who's deciding on changing her major for the second time in a year? Meeee. So much paperwork, ugh. Please excuse any odd bits in this chapter, as I've had a permanent headache for three days and am suffering.**

 **Enjoy the chapter!**

* * *

Blaise was scared of McGonagall.

He was never ashamed to admit it, because most of the Slytherin house shared his fear. It was nothing like the cold, dry fear of Snape, which honestly they'd gotten used to over the years. There was only so much glowering and mean comments you could take before they started to lose their edge.

No, he was scared of McGonagall because she was so different from Snape. Sure, they both had their stern side (or, for Snape's case, his only side), but on their bad days they differed. Snape growled, sneered and brooded. McGonagall exploded in the quiet, angry, dangerous ways that left that fear curdling in your blood for ages to come. And he'd only ever seen that from a distance. He could only imagine the horror of having it directed at himself.

But Hermione hugged her tightly, complimented her on something in her office, and primly sat down before her desk and left Blaise to flounder about all on his own.

The woman, however, took pity on him, and offered her hand out, "Mister Zabini, it's lovely to see you again."

He relaxed and gave her a shaky grin as he shook her hand, "Th-thank you, Prof – err – Headmaster. Mistress?" His eyes widened at the mistakes, lips thinning into a worried line.

Her lips turned upwards ever so slightly. "McGonagall is fine. Minerva if you're feeling up to it."

"Oh, no, never, ma'am," he gave a shaky laugh before wobbling down to the seat next to Hermione, where she stifled her giggles and shared a quick grin with her former Head of House.

"Now," McGonagall sat down beyond the desk, steepling her hands and glancing between the two, "Let's get straight to business, shall we?" She tapped her wand against a piece of parchment, duplicating it, and offered the duplicate to him and Hermione to look over. "We typically use the Great Hall during winter break, as I'm sure you both know, but we've already determined that not that many students will remain, so dinner can be held in the Common Rooms for that night." Her lips pressed together, as she probably didn't like that idea.

"Oh, no, we wouldn't mind students joining us," Blaise said, Hermione nodding along.

"It would save extra trouble for the house elves, who we're already putting enough on, and it would be fun for the students," Hermione smiled sweetly, "Like another Yule Ball, but more boring."

McGonagall nodded, revising the paper on her end and having the changes made to their copy. "The house elves would be happy to decorate, but I wanted to check with you to see what you wanted."

"We can decorate," Hermione stated, McGonagall nodding and revising again.

"Or make Draco do it," Blaise hummed thoughtfully, grinning, " _That_ would be a wonderful sight, him covered in ribbons and bows…do you think I could give Astoria some ideas for his wardrobe?"

McGonagall's lips twitched as Hermione laughed. "Do you have any requests for the dinner?"

"Actually," Hermione spoke up before Blaise could, "Blaise's grandmother makes wonderful meals, and we've already discussed with her about giving some recipes to the house elves, and we were wondering if that's something they would be comfortable with."

"Of course, they love learning new recipes," McGonagall nodded, "You can send copies of them to me, or have her owl me directly, and I'll see to it myself."

"And we were actually hoping that the orchestra and choir here would mind providing the music," Blaise suggested, seeing the next thing on the list.

"If you can get a list of songs to Filius, they would be happy to," she gave that weird slight smile again. "Now, who's to be officiating?"

Hermione beamed and scooted forward in her chair, "Actually, Professor, we were wondering if you would mind officiating for us?"

McGonagall looked up from her parchment and stared at Hermione, "Beg pardon?"

"Will you officiate at my wedding?" she repeated.

McGonagall blinked, looking to Blaise to see him smiling at the exchange, before she flustered and tried her hardest not to smile, "Of course, I'd be happy to. Thank you." She scribbled on the parchment, head bent further than necessary, and gave a big sniff. "Well, that seems to be everything necessary for the time being. If anything comes up, we can easily correspond."

"Professor, are you crying?" Hermione teased gently.

"I am not, Miss Granger," she snapped with a glare, eyes red and shiny. "I just…some ash, from Fawkes, has gotten into my eye."

"I'm glad you agreed, you know," Hermione continued on, "You always were my favorite professor, and you know that."

"Miss Granger – " her glare intensified.

"Actually, and this is something I haven't discussed with Blaise yet, but would you be terribly offended if I declared you godmother of my children?"

"Get out," she huffed, the tears finally slipping down, "I mean it, Hermione, get out. How dare you make an old woman cry? Honestly, you have some nerve."

"You're not old, perish the thought," Hermione insisted with a scoff, coming around the desk and hugging her. "And surely you knew I would do this sooner or later. After all, being your _favorite student_ , I think it should be known that you're my favorite teacher."

"I never should have told you that," she murmured behind Hermione's mountain of hair. "That was the whole reason we stopped those get-togethers and you know it."

"Of course," Hermione chuckled as she pulled away, "Both of us working full-time had nothing to do with it."

"Of course not," she sniffed again, this time a mischievous smile in place. "Of course, if you ever have time for a drink again, we could always discuss how your relationship is going."

Hermione flushed and sent her a quick glare as Blaise chuckled. They bid the woman goodbye, promised to meet up again soon, and departed as quickly as politely possible. Once they had reached Hermione's flat and she was bustling about with dinner and Crookshanks was perched awkwardly on top of Blaise's shoulders for some ungodly reason that only the cat knew, he finally began to laugh.

"You drank with your former professor? For _fun_?" he teased before wooden cooking utensils were flung in his immediate area, Crookshanks hissing and hopping off as Blaise dodged them all, thus disrupting his perch.

"She's a wonderful role model!" she defended with a huff, the pout on her lips deciding that the conversation was therefore over.

"Did you really mean it about wanting her as godmother?" he asked, perched on top of her counter and handing her various spices.

"Yes, actually," she shrugged, eyes trained on her food, "McGonagall has always been someone I looked up to. After the war, I wasn't really the best at coping, and she noticed and sought me out and we just…talked. For hours and hours, about things that were related to the war and then things that weren't. If…if you'd rather, you know, we not – "

"Oh please, our kids are probably going to be Slytherins, they need all the help they can get from her," Blaise scoffed, fiddling with a spatula.

"Excuse me? Our children shall be Gryffindors, I'll have you know," she snorted with a twinkle in her eye. He grinned, glad to see her better from their conversation over lunch, and simply glad to see that she was comfortable with talking to him about this.

"Hardly," he clicked his tongue with a grin, "I've had hundreds of Slytherins in my family, darling, it's practically genetic."

"Well, _darling_ ," she crooned, "You're about to be married to me, a Gryffindor, which will then make us family, which will then skew your odds."

"A hundred Slytherins to one Gryffindor, what horrible odds," he grinned, "For you."

There was a knock at the door and Hermione laughed, wiping her hands off on a towel to go answer it, "Watch, we'll have a bunch of sly, reckless Ravenclaws and then nobody will win."

He chuckled and nodded, already set to picture the little brood they'd have, when she opened the door and blinked at the man, scraggly and tall and lanky and with most of his face hidden by a beard.

"I'm sorry, sir, can I help you?" she asked as Blaise hopped off the counter and approached her.

The man grinned back, nodding, and lit up when he saw Blaise. "Ahh! The man of the hour!" He took his hand and started shaking, his tattered robes bouncing as he shook with his whole body, "I can't believe it, just can't believe it! So happy for you! Incredibly proud, I am!"

"Err, who are you?" he asked, ripping his hand away from the man and gripping Hermione to drag her bodily behind him.

The man blinked, looking at him curiously, "Blaise! It's me!"

He simply stared harder.

"Oh, is it the beard?" he questioned, waving his hand vaguely around his face. "Or is it the tea?"

"Tea?" Hermione questioned quietly, before Blaise shushed her gently.

"Oh, yes, where I was – small little place in the Himalayas, mind – there was this magical tribe that brewed this tea to hide a person's magical signature," he nodded soundly, "It's why I've been easily hidden over the years, yup. But, somehow, an owl still found me! Tricky little buggers, aren't they? Anyway, I heard you were marrying the one and only Hermione Granger, and knew I just had to come and say congratulations! Also, to be in town for the wedding, it didn't say when it was, I'm afraid, so I came now to be safe rather than sorry."

"I'm sorry – what?" he looked to Hermione as she blinked back at him, a look of feigned innocence perched upon her face. "What owl?"

"I, um, owled somebody and said that we were getting married, and that you wanted to catch up with them," she winced, tapping her fingertips against his shoulder and grinning sheepishly at him, "I just…didn't think he'd show up like this."

"Who?" Blaise asked warily.

"Blaise, it's me! Theo!" the man crowed happily, making Blaise stared him down and gape. Mentally shaving and giving him a trim, and situating him in nicer robes, the realization came crashing down on him.

"Oh my Merlin, Theo, you look…" he trailed off before gripping his friend's shoulders and wincing, "You look like shit, mate."

"Hah! I could say the same about you," he grinned back, the two hugging each other and gruffly slapping the other's back. "Good to see you though. Missed you like crazy, I did."

"Apparently missing someone like crazy has some side effects, I see," he murmured, mostly to himself, but Hermione pinched his elbow when she heard.

Theo, apparently, heard too, "Oh, actually, I'm a bit drunk."

"Drunk?" Hermione's eyebrows shot up to her hairline and her lips pursed.

Theo nodded, "It's the tea. More of a cocktail, really, but they said it would help with my nightmares and hide my magical signature."

"Why would you want to hide your magical signature?" Hermione questioned.

Theo's gaze turned stormy, and he gazed down at Crookshanks as he brushed up against Blaise's leg, before he popped up and grinned back at Blaise, "No use talking about dear ol' dad, hmm? Say, uh, mind if I borrow a razor?"

"Sure, come with me to my flat, we'll get you cleaned up for dinner," Blaise gripped his shoulder, sharing a quick nod with Hermione, "Hermione's flat is a bit too small, so we can just have it there, okay?"

"Alrighty," Theo nodded back, "I hope I'm not imposing."

"No, Theo, it's…" he faltered and shot a grateful smile to Hermione, "It's really great to see you." She smiled back, nodding as he escorted Theo to his flat, watching over him as he carefully shaved in the bathroom mirror.

"So how did you meet up with Hermione?" Theo asked casually, regarding his reflection. "Last I heard, you were illegally engaged to Daphne Greengrass."

"It's a…long, slightly illegal story," Blaise sighed, leaning against the doorway.

"Oh, well, those are always the best kind," he gave him a grin.

"Theo," Blaise called out before he even knew what to say, "I'm…sorry, that I haven't…been there to help you out."

"Psht," he waved it away, "Everyone deals with things differently. Truth be told, I don't think I would've accepted your help back then."

"Will you accept it now?" he asked, chewing on his lip and furrowing his brow.

Theo paused, half of his face shaved, regarding his face in the mirror and touching the smoothed portion. "Yeah, I think I will," he nodded, "Getting that letter that you were getting married…I realized that I missed out too much on my best friend's life, and that's not fair. To either of us, I think."

Blaise nodded, smiling, "You didn't miss much, I'm afraid."

"Just you getting thrown into an Unbreakable Vow with the girl you fancied in Hogwarts." At Blaise's wide-eyed stare, Theo grinned, "I stopped by Draco's first, that's how I knew you were at Hermione's. He's a blabber-mouth."

With Theo freshly shaved and trimmed and in one of Blaise's shirts and pants – which were far too big on him, given that he hadn't been eating properly in ages – they sat down and ate with Hermione once dinner was finished and brought over.

"How were the Himalayas, Theo?" Hermione questioned, not even blinking twice as he faltered from picking up the rice with his hand.

"Erm, good," he said, wiping the flecks off on a napkin, "Sorry, I…forgot. We use forks here."

"It's alright, no harm," she shrugged, smiling sweetly. "Loads of different regions use their hands for certain meals. If you'd rather not use a fork, I don't mind."

"No, I'm good," he reassured, "And they were incredibly interesting! I mean, I'm a bit tired of yaks, but other than that I learned far more about different cultures than I ever would have here. Sure, it took me loads of time to even communicate with anybody there, but it really was a great experience."

"That sounds really interesting, mate, what else did you do there?" Blaise asked.

Theo paused, lengthily, and Blaise checked over him to make sure he was okay. "Uhm, to be honest, I don't quite remember." At Blaise's wary look, he grinned sheepishly, "The tea drinking started quite early, I'm afraid."

"Then how do you know about the culture?" he questioned with a grin.

"Oh, that would be the five or six times I was completely sober," he smiled, before looking to Hermione gently, "I _am_ sobering up, International Portkey will do that to you, I promise I'm not always this…" he waved his hand around vaguely before hearing her laugh.

"It's alright, Theo, I understand," she grinned, "I'm just glad we found you before we got married."

"I am too! I can't just let Draco be the best man unopposed," he teased, "His ego is big enough as it is."

She chuckled, resuming her dinner, and Blaise merely grinned at the two of them as they ate. His best friend had been found, his barminess had been acknowledged, and he was on the track to better living. He'd gotten over his fear of McGonagall after seeing her cry once she was told that she was to officiate and be the godmother, and lunch had gone well all around.

"Mate, the staring's a bit odd, and that's saying something coming from me," Theo observed, making Blaise snort and prod at him with his fork. "Ouch! Hermione, your dumb fiancé just abused me!"

"Blaise, don't abuse Theo," she chided, "Theo, don't give Blaise reason to abuse you."

Dinner was wrapped up and stored in Blaise's fridge, Hermione promising to talk to him later tomorrow to discuss more plans, although he was sad to see her go and not be wrapped up with her later in the evening. He and Theo stayed up and talked for a bit, waiting until Theo finally passed out on the couch, Blaise turning in at a late hour after running through the events of the day.

He awoke, however, with someone gruffly throwing a pillow at him.

"Wake the fuck up," Theo grumbled, rubbing at his eyes tiredly, "Go open the fridge and get me eggs."

"Good morning to you too, Theo," Blaise chuckled sleepily. "Did you sleep well?"

"Fuck off, I've got a three year hangover," he cursed. "Your fridge has a fucking mini-sun in it. I can't open it."

"Fried, scrambled or hard-boiled?" he asked as he stood and made his way to the kitchen, Theo shuffling along quietly.

"Whichever makes the least amount of noise," he answered before hissing as Blaise slammed the fridge shut. "You fucking _bastard_."

Blaise laughed quietly as he filled up a pot with water, dunking the eggs in and setting them on the stove, picking through other things to make with breakfast.

"I like her," Theo finally announced quietly, "She's good for you."

"I think so too," Blaise admitted.

"You love her?" It didn't really sound like a question.

"Yeah," he answered softly.

"I call dibs on godfather," he decided with a grin.

"Oh, good," Blaise stated nonchalantly, "We were wondering who to pick. We've already got the godmother picked out. I think you and Minerva will get along just fine."

"Minerva?" Theo echoed.

"McGonagall," he said with a wicked grin as Theo's face contorted into fear. "What, you don't want to do it now, mate?"

Theo was silent, glaring at him for as long as it took the eggs to cook, "I would tread hail and high water to be godfather."

"Nice to hear," he smiled back genuinely. "I'll pass it along to Hermione. Now eat your eggs while I brave the mini-sun and find something more to eat."

* * *

Crookshanks tread on Hermione's shoulder, making her groan and start to swat him away lazily. How dare she treat him like that? He was just being a good kitty and bringing her the letter that Blaise had gone through all the trouble to write, hop in the Floo, and set on the coffee table where she could see it before leaving again. He just wanted to go the extra mile. However, it seemed that his mistress could not see how helpful he was. Perhaps it was all the hair covering her face. Yes, that must have been it. Honestly, it was a wonder that she hadn't suffocated on all of it yet. He'd tried to groom her unsuccessfully several times throughout their years together, and each time he'd given up after the first strand.

"Crooks, no," Hermione groaned as he began to burrow under her hair and her arm, letter in mouth. "Saturday. Sat-ur-day. I don't work. Let me sleep in."

He poked her in the side of the nose with the letter, and she huffed before snatching it away and sitting up, rubbing at her eyes and unfolding it to peer blearily at it. Seeing this as a good opportunity for a nap now that his job was done, he crept into her lap and began kneading again to get it nice and comfy.

 _Hermione,_

 _I just wanted to say thank you for everything that you did and do for me. I'm forever grateful to you for your warm, compassionate and caring nature, and look forward to how I'll make it up to you in these coming years._

 _I'm lucky to have you in my life, let alone have the privilege to marry you._

 _Yours truly,_

 _Blaise_

 _PS – Would you like to meet me for dinner tonight? I find it atrocious that as fiances, we've never been on a proper date. Let me know what time you're available?_

Crookshanks blinked and stared up at Hermione as she emitted a tiny squeal and flew back into her mattress, jostling him as she spread her fingers over her red face and pressed another hand to her heart. He sat up, ears flattened to his head, and steadied her with a glare as she re-read the letter. Noticing that she'd disrupt her cat, she began scratching behind his ear and got him purring, that silly smile still on her face.

* * *

 **I'm really trying to avoid writing from Hermione's perspective, as I always seem to do that. It's so much fun writing from Blaise's, but as I keep writing I'm aware that at certain parts I'll have to switch narrators. But I'm going to try to keep it from going to Hermione as long as I can, just to give me a different point of view to write from!**

 **Thank you so much for reading, I'd love it if you'd review!**

 **See you next chapter!**


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